


The League of Interminable Women,  Installment Two: Airs and Graces

by flayrith



Series: The League of Interminable Women [2]
Category: Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flayrith/pseuds/flayrith
Summary: Immediately following the end of World War One, a League of determined women initiated by Etta Candy; under the leadership of Diana Prince; and with; or perhaps despite; the aid of Sherlock Holmes; have secured London from a rabble of jewel thieves, who, by reviving fears of Jack the Ripper, have left a trail of assault and murder.  Yet thievery was only a small portion of a far larger, and more treacherous plot which could threaten not only London, but the entire British Empire.  Having taken leave of her new friends with the assurance the women, together, can accomplish anything; Diana has embarked on a mysterious journey, unaware the most dangerous events the League of Interminable Women are yet to encounter, have only begun.
Series: The League of Interminable Women [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1218111





	1. Part 1

**Prelude** ****

I'm not sayin' Sir, it weren't goin' work...I'm sayin' maybe we should be a might more careful...what with them women an' all, they already, well, put a bit a snag in our plans, they did...sending out three men, in place 'a one or two, didn't seem to make much difference..."

The man of medium height with middling complexion, moderate dress and measured words - wearing a mediocre set of overalls over a mis-fitting cotton shirt and a mundane flat cap upon his head, stood before the open door to a small workspace, the interior shadowing all but a single bright lamp.

" _Our_ plans, you say? And when did your opinion become of any value? Am I to believe all this..."; through the partially-shaded window, the speaker’s arms could be seen swinging widely; "...is due not singularly to my brilliant intellect, but only because _you_ deemed it worthy to share your ignorant input?"

"I didn' mean nothin' by it, M..., er, Sir..."

"Of course you didn't . You don't possess sufficient intelligence to clothe yourself in undifferentiated garments that require anything more than slipping up or pulling over. And, while your limited mental abilities _have_ retained my request to address me only as _'Sir';_ or, if your cerebral acuity allows, _'Doctor'_ ; I must remind you, when you speak to me _look me in the eyes_. The key to the soul is in the eyes, and if I can't see your eyes...I don't know your soul."

"Yes, um, Sir, I apologize. It can be a bit hard at times, lookin' you in the eye, and all..."

"Oh, that's such an inconvenience, I suspect. Would you prefer I find a way to place you eye-to-eye on a _permanent_ basis?"

"No, no Sir, it won't be happenin' again."

"Very good. I suspect it will not." The shadow stated with finality, adeptly pausing between statements, emphasis placed upon each syllable. "I've accomplished all possible at this scale. I'd expected these first results to be more determinate, but as those in my employ are unable to distinguish base passions from greater purpose, time to proceed to the next step."

"Only out for a bit 'a fun, Sir. That's what them type women 're for. They was wantin' it. An' they was screamin'. Couldn' 'ave let that go on."

"There are more ways to silence... _the weaker sex..._ than by the slitting of throats. Now scamper off and do whatever it is you do. I'm far too busy to expend time and energy on your petty thoughts. While I'm certain you must serve some purpose, whatever that may be I find it of little interest."

**Chapter 1**

"Are you expecting anyone?"

London Metropolitan Policewoman Kate Sandsmark carefully turned her head toward her host, shifting from her position on Etta Candy's couch. She, along with her companions, had spent the night gathered together in Etta's living room, all recovering from their battle of the previous evening.

"Not quite 8AM and visitors already! A bit early, I'd say, but I'm not surprised that _someone_ should be calling for _one_ of us!" Etta replied, after the past days having become accustomed to visitors and friends - old and new - arriving at all times of day and night.

"Maybe it's Diana!", Eve Brown exclaimed, anxiously looking toward the door, distracted from carefully brushing Officer Kate's hair. "Maybe she's changed her mind - she's come back!" Hoping no one would notice, Eve quickly wiped the tears from her eyes that she'd been holding back since Diana Prince, the woman Eve had come to admire and respect; who had saved her life in more ways than one; whom Eve had almost begun to _worship_ \- had left them all only minutes before, saying she must go, she had duties to fulfill; that she had failed and now must make right. Eve couldn't understand how Diana could _fail_ at anything, couldn't believe what Diana could have done that compelled her to leave Officer Kate and Miss Etta and Miravati and Tess and _her_...just when they had all found each other. But Diana had also said _she could do it;_ whatever it was she had do to; and that together, these women could also accomplish any challenge set before them. Eve understood, and believed, _that._

"We can hope, dear", Etta replied. "But if it's one thing I've learned about that young woman, once Diana's set her mind to something it's near impossible for her to see another way. But we can hope." Etta stood from the breakfast tray she'd just refilled, her first serving having disappeared in seconds as the women were far more hungry that Etta had expected. Curving her way around the tall-backed armchair and foot rest she'd arranged for Tess Atker, who sat resting her head and arm from the vicious attack she'd suffered; and quite dramatically defended herself from, possibly causing more harm to the attacker than she'd sustained herself; Etta opened her front door without pausing to peek past the curtains and see who awaited her on the other side. After helping apprehend three fiendish men, she was, at least for now, a bit more confident in her abilities to fight off any unwelcome caller. And it helped to know Miravati was only steps away.

"Each must follow one's own path, Eve, and that path is only known only to the one to whom it is revealed." Miravati Mukerjea stated in her typical specific, yet mysterious, manner. Although the meaning of her words were often difficult to understand, as Eve and Kate and Tess and Etta had mentioned among themselves, the words she chose always seemed important to pay attention to. Even Diana, the women had noticed, could be surprised by what Mira said; and during last night's fight, what the tall, composed, and slightly baffling woman had been able to _do_.

Miarvati made certain Tess was comfortable, re-arranging the injured woman's pillows until Tess had become a bit rebellious of all the attention: _"Mira! Please, I'm fine! No one has fussed over me like this since...well, for a long time. No, the pillow's fine where it is. Can't Etta use your help in the kitchen, or something....yes, thank you, Mira.”_

With one last tuck of the blanket she'd set around her friend, Miravati stepped back, smoothing the colorful and distinctive wrapped-dress she wore, clothing her from head to foot yet not as a concealing cover, as one would assume who hadn't seen how comfortable and feminine such clothing could be, but rather seeming to enhance the wearer's beauty. "You are welcome, Tess. I am happy to help as I can." With her fingers she simply arranged her hair then stood, patiently, hands clasped, awaiting and aware of the opportunity or need to next become of purpose.

Three knocks, more determined than before, again sounded even before Etta could open the door.


	2. Part 2

**Chapter 2**

"This is 41 Tredegar Road, the home of Miss Etta Candy? Is Miss Miravati Mukerjea present?" The girl; in years not much older than Eve but in manner far more comfortable; appeared to Etta as a smaller, younger version of Mira. Both wore similar, though distinctly-colored and patterned dresses reaching from shoulder to ankle and separate wraps softly draped along their shoulders and extending onto their heads revealing a few inches of smooth, raven-dark hair, parted in the middle. Both shared similar features and olive complexion, although the younger woman would best be described as 'pretty', while the older, having grown from child to adult, was beautiful; the only aspect of each that seemed unusual were their surprisingly sturdy, although out-of-place, boots. Slightly behind this new visitor stood a woman whose age, Etta guessed, would exceed that of her own along with the ages of both younger, all added together. She was dressed as her young companion and similarly as Mira, but entirely in black; or, _shades_ of black that would surprise anyone who hadn't thought of black possessing so many varied shades. Although her face differed by age and feature, her clothing, hair, complexion, and composure seemed much the same as Mira's and the younger woman's. But his older woman wore sandals, and did not speak a word but displayed her conviction only by her determined expression and by the young boy she held partially suspended by his jacket collar, balancing upon his toes and apparently having long past given up any resistance.

"Hirava!" said Mira, stepping forward in recognition. "Why are you here? Are Mama and Papa alright?"

"Yes, _didi_ , they are fine but worried about you; worried  and  angry, in father's case."

"Mira, these are your... _family_?" Etta suggested.

"Oh, yes, my apologies." Mira moved aside so the two visitors could enter by Etta's invitation.

"This is my sister, Hiravati; and our ayah; perhaps it is more comfortable to consider her as 'chaperon', Auntie-ji." Miravati announced to all, introducing each by name. In turn, her sister greeted the women in Etta's living room, acknowledging to all her happiness in making their acquaintance. The older woman, boy still in tow, studied the others, one-by-one and for more than a few uncomfortable moments, seeming to immediately recognize and immediately disapprove of people she had never before seen. She said nothing.

"I came to the address you told me, Mirava." the younger woman said to her sister. "Why did you not come home last night? Mother is so worried she wanted to call on the police; Father is angry that you have defied his wishes, and he became even more angry by Mothers mention of 'police'. _'They only serve those who provide them jobs and pay their wages!'_ He said. You know how Father can be."

"When we returned, it was very late, _behen_. I thought it best to remain with my friends, rather than return home and explain to Papa where I'd been."

Miravati did not mention that for most of the night she, along with her friends, had been at a District Police station, held for questioning. Her father would not want to know that.

"I wished to return home, but believed it best I did not. I am a grown woman. Mama and Papa did not need to send you and Auntie-ji to collect me."

"It's not like that, Mirava. Mother only..."

"Ya coul'a jus' ask'd one a us ta take a message." The boy, until now overlooked and uneasy, sputtered his words due to both embarrassment and because 'Auntie-ji's' grasp on his coat collar was so strong he was having trouble getting the words out.

"Hirava, who is this boy?"

"I don't know; I thought you would. He was prowling outside behind a tree, and when asked what he was in to, he started to run. Auntie-ji collared him before he could get away."

"Your _'Auntie'_ ", Kate said, looking at the old woman who didn't seem to have the endurance to even walk more than a few steps, " _captured_ him before he could run?"

"Yes...Miss Sandsmark, is that correct? Auntie-ji should not be discounted."

Auntie-ji said nothing.

"Etta, do you know this boy?" Kate asked. "Anyone?" No one could say they had seen him, nor anyone even of his type more likely found in alleyways and ganged about disreputable corners, than frequenting Etta's respectable street.

'Looks like one of those boys that's hung 'round the theatre doors looking for an easy mark." Eve announced, with more than a bit of pride that she was no longer a part of that world.

"I ain't no bum diver 'r put the touch on no 'ne. Not lately", the boy said. Mira motioned that Auntie-ji lessen her hold on the boys collar. "I, more'n likely, us, I mean, we all work fo'r Mr. 'Olmes. Calls us his _'Irregulars'_ , he does, and pays us to look-out 'n people he thinks need lookin'-out-fo'r. Tol' me 'nd Big Pockets 'nd Little Pockets 'nd Stinkeye 'nd Arthur to watch' ya ladies in case there's anythin' needs watchin' and to tell 'im what we seen."

"You've been spying on us?" Tess announced, shifting her body toward the boy, even though every movement brought pain to her arm, and her side, and added to her headache. "You and you friends - _'Big Pockets'_ and _'Little Pockets' and 'Stinkeye'_ and, uh, _Arthur_?"

"Yea, been taking turns. But not spyin', like you say - lookin'-out-fo'r. All on the up-n-up."

"And what," Kate questioned, "have you and your colorfully-named companions told Mr. Holmes? And before you answer, I must identify myself as Officer Sandsmark, Metropolitan Women's Police."

At Kate's announcement of her position as an officer, Hiravati's eyes grew wide. Her father would not welcome this companionship. Aunti-ji stood stoically, showing neither surprise nor objection.

"Yea, we know all 'bout that. You being a 'copperette' 'n all. Uh, I guess 'Lady Cop' 's more 'spectfcul." the boy corrected, appearing unused to measuring his words. "I got nothin' ta' hide. I work for Mr. Sherlock 'Olmes!" he proclaimed, rising to his fullest height, thumbs in his lapels which would have been a decent representation of a man proud in his work if this had not been a boy having not yet become accustomed to his teens, dressed in clothing by pieces too large and noticeably too small, threadbare and patched with even the patches themselves worn through, the shoes on either foot mis-matched to the other.

"Well Mr. Holmes does not seem to be paying you too well. In any case, what have you told Mr. Holmes?"

"Mr. 'Olmes tol' us not ta' tell."; the boy made a motion of his lips being buttoned closed as he took a step backward; or as far backward as Auntie-ji would allow.

"Mirava, Father and Mother say you must come home now. Father has threatened to call his friends to join in a search for you. That will cause him to become even more angered both due to the trouble you have caused him, and the debt he'd incur to his friends for their favor in searching for you. Of course he will probably never do it, and if he does call upon friends they will end up sitting drinking tea and complaining of how badly the world treats them; you know how Father can be. But Mother is worried. You must come home and explain."

"Everyone," Mira said to the other women with whom she had now formed a bond only they would understand, "I must go. Is there another time when we will be together...are we to discuss and make plans?"

"Of course, Mira." Etta replied. "Come by anytime. I'll most likely be here, or Eve, and Tess will be my guest for quite some time, as I'll not allow her to leave till I decide she's up to it. Come by anytime. There's still so much we need to talk about."

"Mirava," her younger sister mentioned. "The boy?"

Kate, still a bit dizzy and with bandaged-head, slowly rose from the couch. "He can remain here. I'd like to ask him a few more questions. Him, and Mr. Holmes, if he were here." Auntie-ji, held the boy out toward Kate as one would lift a cat that's about to be ejected outside.

"That we should soon again be together." Miravati addressed her friends, hands clasped at her chest. She started toward Etta's front door, leading her sister and Auntie-ji, then turned back toward the living room. "Blessings to each."

"Meeting each of you has brightened my path." Hiravati said, her hands also clasped and with a small nod toward those remaining, following her sister.

"It is good Maravati has found friends." Auntie-ji murmured, looking at no one, closing the door behind her.

**Chapter 3  
**

"Mira's family seem very... _charming_ , don't they?" Etta said mainly to herself, as she needed the most convincing.

"Her sister seems nice and all", Eve mentioned to no one in particular, pulling her blanket closer around her. She surveyed the boy from head to foot. "Say, haven't I seen you 'round Piccadilly? Aren't you one of those thimble-riggers looking to put the touch on some billboard?"

"Not that I'm sayin', girly-girl. Man's gotta get by someways. Seems yer mighty familr' with the lingo, but" the boy quipped, no stranger to a grilling.

"Only because I know a two-penny grifter when I see him", Eve defended. "And you're no closer to being a 'man' than I am."

"Give a look under that blanket, toots, and you'll see how much a man I'm."

Eve turned red from embarrassment or anger or both, her brow furrowed as she took two bold steps toward her aggressor. _Diana wouldn't back down from a fight_ , she reasoned. "I'll have you know I've dealt with _men_ far more dangerous than you, you, you... _little pippin_! And likewise...."

"We won't be having any of that" Kate stated, looking strongly at Eve and pulling sharply on the boy's arm. "Eve, one would hope you display better manners." Eve dropped her head and returned to her place on the couch. "Sorry, Officer Kate. He's got no right."

"And you, son," Kate continued, "I needn't remind I'm a sworn Officer and you'll answer my questions in a respectful manner or I'll take you down to the station."

"I isn't yur sun and I only answers to Mr. 'Olmes. Been at the station before, anyways."

"Well, perhaps we should all sit and have a nice conversation." Etta motioned toward the few non-occupied spaces in her living room. "Nice pot of tea should settle any misspoken words."

Even as Etta started toward the kitchen, two brisk and deliberate knocks sounded at her door.

"Oh, visitors! Even better. I don't know where I'll put them, though...."

"Pleasant morning, ladies" Sherlock Holmes announced, removing his hat and with a slight bow even as his eyes set momentarily upon each person in the room. "I felt it my duty, and privilege, to verify that each of you are well and untroubled; taking into account the disturbances of last evening."

"Disturbances?" Etta, Tess, and Kate said in near unison. Eve said nothing but glanced from the boy to Mr. Holmes and back again, trying to understand how an alley-rat would be connected with this gentleman. And vice-versa.

"Yes, disturbances rather odd" Holmes replied, acknowledging Etta's invitation to enter. "Three notorious criminals; two of whom I'd been scrutinising in regards to the investigation in which Miss Prince and I are currently engaged; were apprehended after having, I should add and pardon the frankness of my description, been beaten horribly and without pity. One was found dead, the other two currently in hospital and under custody, their conditions best stated as 'guarded'. I was under the impression you ladies may have been out and about during these hours, for reasons it's not a gentleman's to ask; and in fact from the bandage on her head, Officer Sandsmark appears to be recovering from an involvement; on official duties, no doubt; and Miss Atker continues to rest, wounds from her previous encounter having yet to heal. Are you doing well, Miss Atker?" Holmes inquired.

"As well as can be expected. I'll see what the next two-three-days bring."

"Assuredly" Holmes answered.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes, some of us were out last evening," Kate replied, seizing the boys arm in an even tighter grasp and pulling him partially behind her. "And yes, I was on duty. Fell and struck my head. I must be more careful. I haven't reported to the station this morning and have no word on any disturbances or arrests. That's more along lines of duty for the male officers, of course."

"Of course, Officer Sandsmark. Must be far more careful, as should we all."

"So these men that were captured, the police have been wantin' them?" Tess asked.

"Without doubt, Miss Atker, and you'll be pleased to know one of them may be the same by whose hands you suffered. Quite a coincidence. The police have no idea who would have the courage and skills to confront and defeat three well-armed culprits. Still looking for the men who stepped forward, I understand, anonymously placing their own lives in danger for the benefit of others, only to disappear into the night. But Officials are very appreciative to have these criminals removed from the streets. If...”, Holmes sighed, perhaps a bit too evidently, "...they only knew who to thank."

The women took furtive and knowing glances between one another.

"Ah! Well, my; rather, _our_ ; investigation continues! Certainly the removal of three street thugs would prevent the recurrence of someone pretending to the Ripper, can we? Where, by the way, is Miss Prince? She, as well as Miss Mukerjea. I believe, have not yet arrived? And this young lad's a new addition?" Holmes mentioned, probably aware of the boy from the moment he had first entered Etta's house.

"It's me, Mr. 'Olmes!" the boy declared, stepping from behind Kate. "Marbles Jack! Been lookin'-out', just like ya told us to! Me 'nd Big Pockets 'nd Little Pockets 'nd Stinkeye 'nd Arthur."

" ' _Marbles_ Jack' " Eve muttered. "I told you."

"Ah, yes, Jack. Didn't expect to see you _among_ the ladies", Holmes scolded more by word than action.

"Then you do know this boy, Mr. Holmes, and his friends?" Etta asked. "He told a story of _you_ telling them to _watch over_ us - _without us knowing_?" he blame in her voice even greater than the admonishment in Holmes'.

"All toward the well-being of you and your companions, Miss Candy. And with the highest respect. If I acted on impulse, it was only with your best interests at heart, and I sincerely apologize."

"If with 'highest respect', you should have told us" ess commented. "Having boys sneaking around as if we were needin' to be watched doesn't exactly show much respect."

"Again, Miss Atker; and everyone; my apologies. During an investigation, you must understand some details must remain undisclosed until absolutely necessary. I only acted towards your safety. And returning to the subject at hand...Miss Prince?"

"She had to leave, rather suddenly" Etta answered. "Unforeseen calling."

"Away? Pity. Such an intriguing woman. Not unexpected, of course. An individual of her insight and abilities must certainly hold more commitments than she makes known. In any case, I've pressed on and have recently learned, through connections which must remain undeclared,” glancing toward Tess, “of the emergence of 'person of interest' who labours under the delusion he can call upon forces beyond our world" looking toward Eve; "or perhaps, that these 'forces' are guiding him toward illicit and corrupt beliefs best left unmentioned. Also suffers from a form of illness or injury which has affected typical growth of his frame, and affliction of his legs requiring the assistance of a cane."

"You mean he's a cripple?" Eve asked.

"While that, Miss Brown, may serve as a _diagnostic_ description, I doubt it's the most _acceptable_ wording. His _impairment_ , shall we say, would place him in what many would judge a lesser position to those generally considered _normal_. However if what I am led to believe is accurate, any bodily challenges are more than balanced by his mental skills, far surpassing the average or abilities of the majority."

"If he can't walk, then...or has trouble and needs a crutch..." Kate considered.

"A cane, I believe."

"...then he should be easy to apprehend."

"So one would believe. Just as many view the _chasse au dahu_ , however, it is the prey by its presumed helplessness which conceals the greatest deceit; and often, the greatest dangers. Considering this person may, in fact, harbour an injury to his lower limbs and _untypical_ physical abilities does, to paraphrase the words of Dr. Watson and pardon my brief _entré_ into humour, truly make this a case which is, _a foot_ ! Or, more precisely, _feet_."


	3. Part 3

**Chapter 4**

"I don't think I like that at all."

"What do you mean, dear?"

Etta had just seen Sherlock Holmes and his charge to the door, on their way Holmes having assured Officer Kate to her satisfaction that under his custody, the boy would receive his personal supervision and tutelage. Both departed after Holmes had wished the women _"Good day, ladies"_ , addressing all in the room; and Jack called out " _catch ya' later, toots"_ while looking directly at Eve who held back her reply only by biting her tongue.

"First,", Eve sat solidly into the couch, having something to say and setting herself to say it, "that stripling's mighty cheeky. Makin' comments about 'lookin' under the blanket' and claiming two of his friends are named ' _Big Pockets_ ' and ' _Little Pockets_ ' and the other's ' _Stinkeye_ ' - what kind of a name's 'Stinkeye'? - and calling me 'toots' with a foolish little grin like we was acquainted."

"And 'Arthur', Eve. Don't forget Arthur" Tess offered, encouraging and enjoying Eve's huff.

"Oh sure, ' _Arthur_ '. All slippin' around like they're the 'Artful Dodger' or something. We can take care of ourselves, we don't need any boys or _Mr. Sherlock Holmes_ to watch over us."

"I'm certain he acted with best intentions, dear..."

"And Mr. Holmes!" Eve continued, a kettle on its way to a slow boil, "The way he comes around and says all those fancy words he's so proud of and makes fun of us like we don't understand what he's _really_ sayin'. I don't like that _at all_."

"Make fun?" Tess asked. "He just made that one little joke...."

Eve turned toward the person who would dare defend who she was so focused on attacking. "Oh! He was saying all about 'you women' and 'those men' and 'brutally beaten-like' and 'the police are thankful' – while all the time _we_ aren't got no thanks; present company excepted, Officer Kate; and you just know he thinks we're involved some how but he don't want to say. And all that about 'chasing a duel' or whatever and the 'case's about feet'? What's that mean? Probably words he's saying to sound smart. Making fun of us and we're supposed to go along like we know what he's saying while he thinks we don't, laughin' behind our backs when he's standin' right in front of us." She paused while a deep breath filled the space which would otherwise be filled with words, steam simmering although not yet having reached full boil.

"And talkin' about Diana!” she frothed. “Sayin' how it's not surprisin' that she's gone. Like she never wanted to be with us in the first place and she's better off without us. He doesn't know what Diana said or how she felt. He wasn't here. Diana only left because she had to. She didn't want to leave us, you could tell. She said all of us will stand together forever, remember? When Diana comes back, he'll see. For someone so 'grand', Mr. Holmes is just mean."

"You wouldn't want Marbles-Jack and Stink-eye and those others running the streets with no one to superintend them, would you? That's what gets boys into trouble" Tess added teasingly.

"I don't even know who 'Stink-eye' IS!" Eve boiled, throwing her hands in the air.

"Really, Tess, that's enough" Kate stated, her voice official and cautioning. "Mr. Holmes wasn't making fun, Eve", she patiently suggested, turning toward the girl. "And I don't want to think he was being mean, at all. He just...didn't know what to say. As best he can; being a man, and in a position of some public regard; he's not accustomed to acknowledging those who've achieved things he hasn't. I believe he's a bit self-conscious, and that's a new experience for him. I think he was saying, as close as possible as he could, that he is proud of us. That's all, Eve."

"Then why didn't he just say that, 'stead of all those words that say somehin' but sound like somethin' else. I don't like that he didn't say what he should have said! Just don't like it" Eve ebbed, having calmed or worn herself out, loosening the grip on the pillow she'd been holding in front of her which now, Etta noted, may be permanently mangled. The kettle had cooled, but it resulted in a strong pot of tea.

"Well, that was lively" Etta remarked, glancing from one woman to another, hoping none had any more to say on the subject. "Our thoughts of recent guests aside, the point remains Mr. Holmes does not believe his work on this 'investigation' is complete; and as Diana felt it was her responsibility to work with Mr. Holmes; and Diana is now away; I propose that obligation now belongs to us."

Eve, enveloped both in blanket and gloom, replied: "What difference does it make? Diana is gone."

"All the more reason for us to carry on, Eve" Etta answered. "You asked if we remembered when Diana said we would all be strong, together. Do you recall her saying that strength comes from supporting one another?"

"Yes, I suppose" she half-heartedly muttered.

"And that our duty to each other can make us just as strong as if she were still here?"

"Yes", grudgingly.

"You wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?"

"No", hesitantly. "But I don't know how I can be strong without Diana. She made me think I could be brave and smart and daring, like her, but now I think maybe I'm just small and weak and a no-account."

"Thoughts like that are disrespectful, dear. Each of us has her place in God's plan.”

"Just look at me, Miss Etta!" Eve replied, spreading her arms in disillusion. "I'm sitting wrapped in a blanket on a couch that isn't even a bed in somebody else's house where I don't live with no where to go where I do. My clothes are just a costume, torn and ripped and after last night I don't want to ever wear them again but I got nothing else. I just don't belong. I wish I could have gone with Diana."

"You'll live in Diana's room, dear" Etta stated more as fact than suggestion.

"But what when she comes back?” Eve pleaded. “We should keep that room for her. She can't come back if someone else is in her room!"

"Eve," Tess spoke, "Etta's offered to let me stay here 'till I'm feeling better. That might be a long time. I'll need someone to help me."

"Oh, I can help you, Tess" Eve replied, encouraged by the thought she may be needed. "But I'll just sleep on a chair in the corner. I don't have hardly anything and I won't take up much space...once you're better and don't need someone all day I could find a job, and pay you, Miss Etta, for my keep. Maybe later I can find a nice room in a boarding house or somewhere...."

Tess and Etta turned knowing glances toward one another, both suspecting Diana would never come back and understanding now that men are returning from the Army, employment for the women trained and experienced and necessary during war; let alone jobs for unskilled young girls; would be all but non-existent.

"Then it will only be temporary" Etta announced brightly, hoping the cheer in her voice masked her concern. "You'll take Diana's room, Eve, keep it nice and tidy for her, and help Tess get better. You'd do that for the both of them, wouldn't you?"

"Gawd, yes! I'll help and I'll keep Diana's room ready for her and you won't even know I'm around. I can do it" she announced proudly, remembering when Diana stated the same affirmation. "But I still don't have any clothes" she sighed not in plea but by fact, momentarily eager but, again, discouraged.

"We'll see what can be done about that" Etta replied, knowing exactly what to do.

"Something Mr. Holmes said has been running around in my head..." Kate remarked, during much of these past few minutes having been in her own thoughts. "Someone I need to find and talk to. May take me a bit, but once he's found I think he can answer a lot of our questions; now that I know the questions to ask. And I'll need you to go with me, Eve."

"Me? I don't know anything about policing. Wouldn't Mira, or Miss Etta be better help?"

"No Eve, for this job, you're _just the right_ person."

**Chapter 5**

Auntie-ji followed a few steps behind, observing little but seeing all. The three women walked south, the short distance between Etta's house and the tram stop that would take them first east; then north; then home. By the map their destination was surprisingly close to the neighborhoods of straight streets and row flats of grey and brown where factory workers and teachers and tradesmen could be found; the three miles they crossed took them to streets a bit less angular and while houses often adjoined one another, each were shaded by trees and softened by green hedges and grass and space and privacy at the front and rear; homes where store owners and warehouse managers and factory administrators lived.

"Mirava, the women at that house; they are those who band together to make the streets safe?"

"I would not say 'band', sister. We are not criminals. Kate is a member of the police; therefore she can neither engage nor encourage unlawful actions. Diana recognised women were being attacked and she felt it our purpose to stop those who were harming others."

"Diana is the one with the bandaged side and head? At first I thought she was wearing a pagri! then I realized as a woman that cannot be. But if she is the warrior as you have said...."

"No, that is not Diana. Diana's responsibilities have led her elsewhere. The one with bandages is Tess. She was attacked and injured a week past, but returned to assist in our conflict with the men. There, she was injured even more severely but will recover. She feels great resolve, but I am unsure if that purpose arises from suffering or contempt. I fear it may be both."

Within a few minutes the tram arrived; the lines still running on their schedule of wartime frequency; and as the women boarded and passed through the aisle toward a seat; Auntie-ji first, followed by Hiravati with Miravati trailing to pay the conductor; and from the moment they stepped aboard, drawing the attention of all. A few passengers glanced in their direction and smiled; others stared; some ignored. Two women and one man lowered their conversation and glared while others moved out of the way more by avoidance than consideration. The majority simply accepted only because proper manners insist they do not reject.

Auntie-ji sat by the window, her gaze focused forward with little attention paid to comment or ignorance. She had experienced it all before and knew, although she wished it were not so for her girls and all young people, that however the English claimed all citizens of the Empire were equal, those citizens with brown skin may never be. Mira sat at the end of the bench, Hiravati between them.

"Mirava, you must tell me all about your adventures and those evil men. I read in the newspaper that three were arrested by the police only after unseen strangers had already restrained them? Father says these strangers must be even worse than the criminals, that if everyone can place themselves above the law, there is no law for anyone. But you know how Father can be."

"There was no 'adventure', Hirava. Good and evil, right and wrong, faith and action all seek balance. You know this. If our paths lead us toward a force of unbalance, it is a test of our faith to help restore that balance. That is all."

"But you and your friends - you were the 'unseen strangers', were you not? Are there other adventures you and your friends are planning? The woman 'Tess', she was injured in the fight, and the Policewoman wears a bandage, also. Are you OK, didi? Were you hurt?"

"I am fine. We should not be speaking of this in a public place. We will talk later. For now, know that Diana is a great warrior, and she believes the only way to confront evil is with action. She does not, I think, know of any other way. There is an evil to be addressed and I and Kate and Tess and Etta and Eve, through the leadership of Diana, were prepared to challenge a form of that evil. What the future holds no one knows and it is foolish to presume."

"Then you WERE those who captured those men!" Hiravati responded, her face glowing in surprise and pride.

"Sshhh, behen."

"Miravati!" Auntie-ji piercingly interrupted. "Your boots are dirty and scuffed. That you girls have chosen to follow this 'enthusiasm' of wearing boots with your sari has caused enough disgrace, but to wear them in that condition is not acceptable. I have taught you are judged by your appearance, for good or bad. You do not want people believing you roam through alleyways."

"No, Auntie-ji."

Almost imperceptibly, a slight smile formed on Auntie-ji's face. Otherwise, she remained unmoved.


	4. Part 4

**Chapter 6**

" 'N yer sure this is safe, Sir?"

" ' _Safe'_? Nothing is this world is ' _safe'_. Sitting to dinner and choking on an undercooked piece of meat? That isn't ' _safe'._ The unanticipated appearance of those women who took it upon themselves to impede my plans - ' _safe'_ for neither your associates, as we have seen, nor for the women. The War, which if I had not been so ignorantly dismissed, would have ended far sooner or been prevented entirely? And the soon-to-be-realised results of that rejection? Hardly ' _safe'_. In this world there can be certainties; the certainties we create for ourselves; but there is no ' _safe'_.

"We was just wonderin', Sir, you bein' protected in that cubby 'n us out in the open...."

From a distance the men, dressed in overalls, shirt, and flat cap were indistinguishable from one another; upon closer notice, every one was much the same. Nearest the centre of London as possible without the evidence of obviousness, in a commonplace building as grey and featureless as the men huddled inside, each blended together as those whose only identity was that of the group. Aside from the upper halves of the walls, and much of the roof, being made from panes of glass; the building having once been a fruit, vegetable, and flowers warehouse where the brightest colors sold for the most money; illumination was provided only by the few lamps suspended over inconsistently placed work benches; the light from a small office secluded atop a long row of short stairs; and the shine of finely-polished metallic spirals, each pencil-thin but formed together into a helix rising twenty or more feet into the air. Sitting upon a strong central axis in the middle of the room, the sculpture resembled a giant drill or corkscrew but hollow and ephemeral; its only weight collections of small attachments positioned along the height and width, apparently random but at some angles appearing as a pattern although indistinct and undetermined. From below, the hum and rumble of a dozen or more generators filling the basement filtered into the space, rattling windows and setting men's teeth on edge.

"Aside from which, the instrument's focus is calibrated at it's lowest frequency and minimal distance, affecting only halfwits, rats, strayed dogs, and other lesser creatures. You men should feel no ill effect. _Most_ of you, at least."

Centered not more than twenty feet from the sculpture, a booth large enough for only one stood fully occupied. Made almost entirely of glass; but not the flat, clear glass of windows and displays but of facets and angles, ribbed and pebbled into a thousand faces as a giant, finely-cut gem, the figure inside appeared jumbled and indistinct, its presence known only by the click and snap of switches thrown and knobs adjusted, actions shadowed and mysterious within a glowing blue half-light that was neither of nature nor man. As the light grew and ebbed either in response to controls manipulated or of it's own purpose, the sculpture itself became alive, rotating upon its base first slowly then increasing so the individual spiral forms appeared to fuse together into a radiant cage, light magnified and distorted into all color and scale, glistening and gleaming among the mirrored metal supports and dancing between the small attachments now revealed as gemstones, arranged in groups from dozens to hundreds, each precisely aligned to form a pattern recognizable only while the sculpture spun at full revolution. Inside the booth the figure, no longer one form but manifested by infinite reflection, drew quiet and immobile, one hand remaining on the console, the other positioned with two fingers raised toward, or possibly lightly touching, the forehead.

Within a radius of two hundred feet outside the building, three stray dogs, each unknown to each other, ran to stairways of five and six storey buildings and climbed upwards, not slowing when they reached to top but mindlessly continuing over the roof's edge and to their deaths, the crack of breaking bones, fading whimpers and peoples cries distinct even inside the massive warehouse. On the sidewalk a small collection of pigeons stopped pecking for crumbs and purposely walked into the path of an oncoming trolley despite the driver frantically ringing the bell. Above the building's windowed roof a cat could be seen crossing between two wires, carefully keeping its left rear paw in contact with one wire as it placed its right front paw on the other, electrocuting itself. In an adjacent warehouse one man, holding a rope securing a large crate suspended over his companion, started to loosen his grip but realized what he was about to do, shook his head, took a firm hold, and thought it was time for a break. Among the crowd of featureless men, all now shielding their eyes from the brilliant and blinding light, one stepped away from the group, none of the others noticing, to a work table, picked up a hammer and chisel, and calmly sat on the floor, positioned the blade against his chest, and prepared to drive it into his heart.

Amid the snap and click of switches and relays, the sculpture slowed, lights dimmed, and patterns passed into plainness. Men uncovered their eyes but once again slapped their hands to their faces and turned away when they saw now evident among the former, featureless greys was a pool of scarlet surrounding what had been their fellow worker.

The figure who had been inside the glass cubby opened a small door and glanced around the room, his expression a bit tired but unmistakably pleased.

"Ah! The reports should begin arriving soon, but it appears all results among the study area are satisfactory with only one anomaly. Excellent!"

**Chapter 7  
**

Etta was familiar with Selfridges. She, along with dozens of others, had spent many hours at its windows eagerly awaiting the latest fashions displayed for all to see and wish for, displays extending from sidewalk nearly to first-storey ceiling and from one side of the building round to the next forming a physically and symbolic crossroads between 'old' and 'new' London. When finances, necessity, and indulgence agreed, she had purchased a few items from its shelves and counters, most proudly her trimmed-fur-collar overcoat; and it was here that Captain Trevor brought Diana on her first stop on her first visit to London to purchase what appeared to be her first suit. Etta held a great familiarity with the merchandise offered at the worlds greatest department store; although now almost ten years old; but despite how much Eve admired Diana and wished to do everything just as Diana would, on this visit Etta hoped the girl would need to try on far fewer than 226 outfits.

"This is a nice one" Eve suggested, within six attempts already tiring of the search-for-try-on-parade-for-opinion-or-objection shopping process.

Her selection: Two tiers of peach cotton patterned with tiny flowers in pink, red and green, folded above a skirt trimmed in matching peach lace accenting elbow-length sleeves and over-sized collar which extended from neck to shoulder, ending just under the bustline where it was cinched at the highest of high waists by a pink satin belt balanced by two large ivory bows over each hip; was, Etta thought, if nothing else certainly daring. Aside from the dress being a Spring fashion either too early for this year or remaining from the previous, Eve's style choices were a bit less sophisticated than Etta had anticipated; fitting the tastes of a young girl who'd spent more time in magazines than society; and although Etta would never say this to her friend, the dress made Eve look like a strawberry ice-cream parfait quickly melting in the sun.

"That's very _striking_ ," Etta offered as enthusiastically as possible. "Rather unusual how the collar tucks under the belt just at the bows, almost as if the two were attached."

"They are" Eve answered, fluttering the bows forth and back with her hands. "See, there's no need for a hand-bag. Everything can just be tucked into the side, here."

"Oh! Who would have thought that would be in fashion. Would be rather eye-catching, but I can't imagine where you'd wear it, dear, and I'm not certain that's the statement we wish to make. Perhaps the fourth one you tried earlier would be more...accommodating? A nice tweed plaid can be worn most anywhere, and it did seem to fit rather well. Diana”, Etta added persuasively, “has a nice tweed suit.”

"But hers was every color of grey with black and bits of blue. And that was _Diana_. This one's just plain brown. I'll look like everyone else. Present company excepted, Miss Etta."

"There's no harm in looking like everyone else. Our true beauty shines from within, you know. And that suit is far from 'plain brown'. As I recall, it's criss-crossed in navy cheques, with a small yellow pattern at the center of each square. Rather striking, I'd say. And it's only one outfit. As we agreed, we're not leaving until you have a nice walking suit; at least one dress suitable for social occasions; and three dresses or skirt-sets for every-day, not to mention blouses, hats, stockings, shoes, sleep-wear, underthings...and heavens only know how you've kept warm in that coat of yours. There's quite a lot to do, we shant' dilly-dally!" Etta encouraged, wishing Eve would try on more quickly and grouse a bit less. "If you should tire, we'll take tea in the cafe, or rest in the lounge. Mr. Selfridge has thought of everything to make shopping pleasant" she said loud enough for Eve to hear from inside the changing room, as well as anyone within the surrounding area.

"As pleasant as possible", Etta grumbled mainly to herself.

"All I need is somethin' that won't make me look like I belong more in a sideshow than on the West End" Eve replied amid moans and sighs greatly exaggerated for someone simply trying on clothing. "I don't want to look like I just wondered in from some street-fair and I aern't refined...I've done that enough, let me tell you. And what 'social occasions' would I be going to?"

"One never knows, Eve. Best to be prepared. You're at the age where men take notice of pretty girls in pretty dresses, and one must think of one's future."

"Men!" Eve huffed from inside the fitting room, accompanied by the sound of a deep breath having been let out. "Men have been _taking notice_ for years. Usually of things I don't think they should be taking notice of. I can do without 'em all." She emerged wearing a tweed suit in browns and blues, accented by tiny yellow patterns and a broad white collar. "I don't really think I need this corset, even for something so cinched-up in the middle" she announced, motioning to the width of her waist compared with that of hips and chest.

"I think it's darling. Come look in the mirror, dear."

"Oh my Lawrd.", Eve announced upon seeing her reflection. "Look at me, Miss Etta. I'm ridiculous. I bunch out here and give in there and I think my neck will get cold. The clothes look so pretty on the displays but on me, I don't look beautiful like Mira or cute like her sister or perfect like Diana.

"Nonsense, it's lovely. Mira and her sister dress in what's appropriate to their culture. I'm certain they've dressed like that all their lives. Diana is...Diana. She has a way of always looking proper. We can't judge ourselves based upon others, only by what we see in ourselves."

"And what I see is that nothing seems to fit where it belongs" Eve muttered, pulling at her jacket and tugging at her skirt.

"For a young woman, everything fits just as it should. It will all fill out and fall into place later" Etta assured. "And once it all starts to fall, there's no stopping it" she added under her breath. "Just a bit of adjustment here and there, perhaps a lighter weight corset...and a proper wrap will keep your neck warm. Oh, a wrap! One more thing we must shop for."

"Whatever's going to fill and fall, I wish it would happen" Eve noted, looking into the mirror as she turned from side to side. I hope this shopping doesn't take much longer. I don’t know how anyone finds anything in this place. I'd thought we'd seen all the blouses, then turn the corner and there's more! And we've only been to two storeys" she sighed.

"That’s what the floorwalkers are for. The gentlemen with flowers in their lapels. To help direct us along the way" Etta noted as she purposefully guided Eve back into the fitting room.

"I'm not letting some man with a flower on his coat tell me what size corset I need. It's more comfortable without one anyway. And lots easier to fight."

"Fight? Diana said the same thing the first time she was here...she got along quite well, as we know, and I don't think she _ever_ went without a corset..." Etta kept on, as much in reflection as announcement. "...of course I think hers was bespoke, as she never felt the need to purchase another...always seemed rather restrictive to me...brightly coloured, though. In any case, let's hope we won't be engaging in any immediate fights. Not in our new clothing, certainly"

It was just time for supper when the two exited the store, carrying far fewer boxes and parcels than expected as Eve was wearing one of her new skirt and blouse combinations underneath her new coat, and the majority of their purchases would be delivered to Etta's home the next day. Amid the crowds of eager shoppers and businessmen who in this post-war world regarded Saturdays as another work day and unemployed former-soldiers to whom every day was much the same as another, Etta was about to suggest they stop for the evening's meal; but noticed her companion, rather than appearing to be pleased with her new outfit, walked with her head lowered, the metal cap of her new umbrella randomly tap-tipping on the pavement.

"Is everything alright, dear? Shoes not pinching, are they?"

"No, Miss Etta, everything's grand." Eve looked up, her forced smile in contrast to her otherwise worried face. "Thank you. But I don't know how I'll pay you back. It's all so much...more than I've ever had, I think, and when the clerk said the total I thought I'd faint dead. I'll pay you as soon as I have the money...when I get a job...when I find someplace who wants me."

"Let's just consider it a gift" Etta answered. "A late Christmas gift."

Eve gaped at Etta, almost stumbling into the corner of a cart carrying ginger beer and oysters and pickled whelks. "But you didn't even know me at Christmas. And I don't have nothing for you."

"There isn't anything I need. We know each other now, and there no reason we can't pretend we've known each other all along. That does mean, though, I have another fifteen or so Christmases to make up for!"


	5. Part 5

**Chapter 8**

Sherlock Holmes could see, in his mind's eye, every piece of the puzzle. What hadn't yet been made clear is how each of those pieces fit. Clearly, the 'random' attacks on women were hardly as they seemed; and despite the intervention of a group of well-meaning but otherwise troublesome women who had, Holmes was compelled to admit, removed three ruffians from the streets and in so doing uncovered an important clue; this would only force whomever was behind his nefarious scheme, whatever his final purpose may be, further into the shadows. The fact this scoundrel had managed to accomplish as much as he had: Precious jewels stolen; attentions of police and public removed from his true plans and focused on meaningless alleyway attacks; and multiple reports of seemingly rational individuals within moments turning from sane to lunatic; were singularly implausible and in combination, genius. But, Holmes recognised, he had resolved other unlikely crimes and untangling this should, as it always has, be only a matter of time; observation; reason; and deduction. If only Watson hadn't have obliged himself to attending that infernal European Conference, for what reasons Holmes could not guess; and Mycroft had been shipped off to Germany for the type of cloak-and-dagger work he claimed to abhor although thoroughly enjoyed. Even the assistance of Miss Prince would have been appreciated. Pity she had other commitments, Holmes thought as the boy walking beside him scuffed his feet and cleared his throat and rasped a stick along fence-rows and did everything a fourteen-year old boy could do to draw attention without appearing that it was attention he was seeking.

“I must say, Jack, it was a shock to find you _inside_ Miss Candy's house in what appeared to be a most awkward situation” Sherlock Holmes stated, aware of the boys intent but disapproving of his methods. “Expressly as my instructions were to remain both unseen and unheard.”

“No 'arm done, Mr. 'Olmes” Marbles Jack looked upward, eager to absorb whatever wisdom the tall, tweed-suited man might share while earnestly trying not to appear eager. 'Specially cause it weren't my fault.”

“Unless my eyes and ears deceive me, I can't fathom whose fault would have placed you in the midst of a rogue band of vigilante females, secured in the grasp of a policewoman engaged in activities far beyond her duties, if that fault was not yours.”

“It was that woman, Mr. 'Olmes. The one all in black. Got eyes like a bat, she does. I was hidin', just like you say, when she came at me before I even know she were there.” Jack threw the stick he was carrying at an inattentive cat and put his hands into his pockets, finding there three rocks that would have made better ammunition.

“You were alone, then? What of your companions? Did I not emphasise the importance of multiple observers when engaged in any _reconnoiter_?”

“Well, it was me 'nd Little Pockets started out, Mr. 'Olmes, 'nd he was standin' 'round the corner when Arthur come by 'nd say Big Pockets was needen' 'im 'cause they's this steamer with some a' them 'scurisionists just come in dock 'nd Big Pockets aren't one to let opportunities pass, but Stinkeye was comin' to take Little Pockets' place so two of us'd be keeping watch 'nd who'd a thought just then those women would'a come by. There's no accountin' for women, Mr. 'Olmes. So it weren't my fault.”

“Ah!” Holmes dramatised with a wave of one hand. “That explains the matter clearly. I couldn't have stated it so well myself.”

“Thank ya, Mr. 'Olmes.”

The two continued South, past warehouses and storehouses and countinghouses, nearly as busy on Saturday morning as they would be on any weekday, skirting Regents Canal until Jack could begin to smell the Thames and started to wonder what kind of take his friends had managed and if he'd be cut in on it.

“Where we goin', Mr. 'Olmes?”

“You, Jack, are going to the docks to remind your 'mates our agreement does not allow for independent avocations, no matter how remunerative they may be, while an existing task is at hand; and that I shall meet all of you at one-o'clock this afternoon at the Eastern Dispensary, Alie side near St. George's.”

“Righ' Mr. 'Olmes. Outside the Dispensary at one, 'nd got no right to independent variations or rumors. 'N keep a watch on them women.”

“In Miss Prince's absence, I do not believe Miss Candy and her companions will engage in any immediate endeavours requiring our attentions; however remind everyone that situation could change at any moment. But until this afternoon, I suggest each of you remain off the streets, or at best, in the shadows. Whomever we are dealing with is intelligent enough to modify his actions without altering his plans; he may already be aware of our investigation.”

“ 'N where're you'll be, Mr. 'Olmes?”

“You know better than to ask that, Jack. I am where I am most needed.”

“Didn't mean nothin' by it, Mr. 'Olmes” Jack faded, the disapproval he believed he'd caused in Mr. Holmes not quite as harsh as the disappointment he had in himself.

**Chapter 9**

“About women, Mr. 'Olmes” Jack stated after what to him was an appropriate length of silence.

“I'm certain Miss Candy and the others will cause us no concern for the foreseeable future, Jack.”

“Not _them_ women, Mr. 'Olmes. Women in general. Ya' know, all of 'em.”

“ 'Women in general', Jack, particularly 'all of them'; is a rather large topic” Holmes replied, recognising women as one of the few mysteries he'd yet to solve.

“Well, maybe it's not all of 'em, but jus' ones you can't understand.”

“Again, Jack; a large topic. Is there a specific concern you have in mind?”

“Let's say there's this woman” Jack began, redness rising in his cheeks; “well, not really a woman, just a female. This female who treats you bad; asking for a friend 'a mine, ya see, who's havin' some problems” he empahsised; “and she says these nasty things to him like he was nothin' but leaving's at the bottom of the barrel when he aren't done nothin' but maybe try to get her attention, lets say, this friend 'a mine.” He glanced at up Holmes, hope and admiration in his face.

“I would say whomever this 'friend' may be, has found himself in a less than favourable position.”

Jacks face and head fell, suddenly finding more interest in the pavement they were passing over than in his personal concerns.

“But that is no need to despair” Holmes continued. “I presume this friend and the female who is causing him despair to be of similar age; background; and social position? And it is unknown if the female in question has any other male suitors, even though to your friend she is rather intriguing?"

“Yeah. I suppose so. Aren't seen no other men around.”

“All the better.” Holmes paused at the corner of two busy streets to allow for passing traffic, extending his walking cane into the path to block Jack, who hadn't been paying particular attention, from veering directly in front of a vegetable wagon.

“I have found”, said Holmes, stepping onto the opposite curb with Jack closely following, “females; be they women; girls; or some stage falling between; learn, at an early age, of their ability to confound and confuse men. I do not know if this is something which is taught or inborn; by choice or instinct; but nearly all females posses this skill. Perhaps it is evolution's way of balancing the greater rationality of men. But for every attempt of the male to encourage, effect, or precipitate social relations with the female, rest assured females will find a way to dishearten and demoralise her admirer.”

“Then I gess there's no point.” Jack mumbled.

“No, not at all, although your reaction is ubiquitous among men of all ages and backgrounds. Quite often the measure of maltreatment a female metes is in direct proportion to the amount of interest she has toward the one whom she mistreats. Is this female consistent in her actions? At no point has she suddenly turned from opposition to encouragement or responded to you; pardon, to your friend; in a manner which is truly spiteful and malevolent?”

“Naw, she's always jus' 'bout the same. Got a sharp remark for everythin'. But treatin' a person bad, when maybe she really likes him...that don' make no sense, Mr. 'Olmes.”

The streets they had passed, filled with shoppers and businessmen, had given way to carts of fish, barrows of casks and men in rough, worn clothing. Masts of great ships gently swayed and black plumes from steamers rose from just beyond the nearest rooftops.

“This is where we part, for the time being” Homes announced as the two neared East India Dock Road. “As we discussed, you are to locate and keep charge of your pals while I continue on. Be alert, Jack; if we are dealing with someone who aspires to the Ripper, such a person would most certainly be drawn toward Limehouse.”

“Don' worry, Mr. 'Olmes. Lived 'ere all my life.”

Holmes encouragingly patted Jack on the back but before he sent the boy on his way, stated:

“You should tell your friend, Jack, the fact that his female acquaintance continues to speak to him, in whatever manner she deems fitting, is evidence she wishes that interaction to continue. It may not be for us, as males, to understand, but only to accept. The fairer sex is a mystery no man has yet solved.” 


	6. Part 6

**Chapter10**

Long ago, even before war-time shortages would have encouraged such a decision, Etta Candy vowed to treat herself only at special occasions; and helping select a girl's first young ladies wardrobe was certainly a special occasion. Moreover, it wasn't only herself she was treating; Eve had told her she'd never been in a restaurant with starched white table-cloths and matching china and waitresses dressed in crisp uniforms with silk stockings; and she hadn't even imagined any such place could exist that had more than one dining room with a different band playing in each. 

Etta and Eve walked beside each other amid the crowds of confusions of Regent Street, the displays in each shop window more breathtaking and enticing than the last; Eve carefully placing her each step so as not to scratch the finish of her new shoes, and Etta searching for an inviting and affordable grill or cafe, thinking a nice meal before returning home would be a lovely conclusion to their day of shopping and exploration into the heart of London. Besides, Etta was curious how the _Maison Lyons_ had recovered since being virtually turned over to the Americans during the war; and the _Lyons_ they were approaching was near to both the tube station and bus stops.

"Miss Etta..." Eve began, slowly turning 'round her plate of sticky toffee pudding as if she'd never seen such a dessert; which, in fact, she hadn't; “...I don't know.”

“It's a pudding of date-cake covered in warm toffee and topped with custard. You'll like it, dear, I promise” Etta replied, knowing how particular girls of Eve's age can be and not wanting a repeat of the explosion into annoyance and frustration she'd exhibited that morning. “If not we'll send it back and order you something else.”

“Not the pudding, Miss Etta. I'm just admiring it. It's too pretty to eat. 'Sides, that rarebit didn't leave much room. Never seen it before with the little fishes on top.” She nipped at the pudding, testing a bit with the edge of her fork.

“Those were anchovies, dear.”

“Oh. Thought they were just too small to use for anything else, so they put 'em on top. I don't know about him, acting all pleased with himself. Maybe he's getting a bit dotty.”

“Dotty?” Etta replied, cutting her eclair into bite-sized pieces. “Jack is rather young to be going 'dotty', I'd say.”

“Not Jack, Miss Etta; _Mr. Holmes_. I don't give a fig about Jack or his friends. What's his nerve, calling me 'toots' like I was the front end of a train or something? And his friends don't even have real names - ' _Small Pockets'_ an' ' _Stinkeye_ ' an' all that, like they're all secretive or something. I shouldn't give any of them a second thought. It's Mr. Holmes I've been thinking about, with his talking about chasing and duels and feet, making no sense 'cept maybe to him; and talking about Diana like he was her friend, and chumming around with that cheeky boy like it's the mos' natural thing in the world. First I thought he was just showing off, making us all think he's so smart, then I thought maybe he was trying to trick us, but now I think he might be going dotty.”

She thrust her fork into the pudding and tore off a piece, her admiration turned to distraction.

“Oh, it's good, Miss Etta. Nice and sweet...jus' like that boy! Trying to act all sweet-like when he's nothing but a dockyard dipper and maybe even a peeping tom. Did you see his beady little eyes? Jus' the type. What nerve. My Grandfather was like that, came a time when he spent his afternoons sitting in the garden talkin' to no one in particular about things no one understood.”

“Your grandfather was a sweet old man, Eve? Or he...” Etta lowered her voice “..was a peeping tom?”

“ _No_ Miss Etta” Eve sighed. “He was sweet enough, I guess, but that's not what I was saying. Everyone said he was goin' dotty and didn't know what he was mumbling. I always thought he knew exactly what he was mumbling but it wasn't intended for anyone else to hear, and besides everyone else was too busy with their own business to pay much attention. I don't know if I should think Mr. Holmes is smarter than all of us, or if he should be sitting in a garden talking to bees and expectin' the bees to answer."

Etta dabbed her brow with a handkerchief; the conversation having gotten away from her and she wasn't quite certain how. "I don't think we need be concerned over Mr. Holmes. As people grow older, sometimes our minds can become preoccupied and we can be a bit forgetful. You're young and your mind is fresh, but one day you'll forget where you put your hat only to find it's still on your head. In time, it happens to us all."

“Well, I'm keeping my eye on 'im.” Eve muttered, soaking up the last bits of toffee with her last bites of cake.

“Keeping your eye on... _Mr. Holmes_?”

“ _No_ , Miss Etta.” Eve rolled her eyes heavenward. “Not Mr. Holmes. I don't even know what Mr. Holmes is talking about. _Jack_. He's the one that needs watching. If he ever comes near again, I'm not keeping him out of my sight. You don't know what he could be up to.”

“Oh, of course, dear. If Jack behaved inappropriately, I'd guess he was only embarrassed and tongue-tied. That's how young men can be.”

“Embarrassed!? I was the one wearing nothing but a towel. And I think he's got a long way to go before he's a man, even though he seems to think different.”

“Boys; and girls; can grow up quickly, Eve. That's something to look forward to, and to be cautious of. Sometimes it seems to happen without you even knowing. One day you'll understand.”

"Gawd, Miss Etta, people keep telling me one day I'll understand, but it seems every year I seem to know less and less." She folded her napkin, imitating other diners, but then uncertain what to do with it put it back on her lap.

"Now if I can only get that girls attention, we can pay our bill and be on our way. I'm certain Tess will wonder what's taking us. And I must remind you to watch your language; it's highly improper for a young lady to take the Lord's name in vain.” Etta placed her folded napkin on top of her plate, collected her belongings and took a final sip of water, Eve closely observing and repeating each of her actions.

“One must become accustomed to changes and happenings at every moment, dear. It's the world we live in. One never knows what may happen next."

**Chapter 11**

“But didi, Father said we were not to leave the house. And even if we were, we should not go without Auntie-ji.”

“Papa knows I am a grown woman, even if he does not wish to accept that truth. Auntie-ji is resting, and I told Mama where we are going; the route we shall take; and when we shall return. But Hirava,” Mira cautioned her sister, “You must promise me you shall never go out on your own; it is not safe for a single girl, of our type, to travel far from her home without being accompanied. I have brought you along because you wished to understand the 'adventures' you believe I have experienced, and this afternoon's 'adventure' should hold the least danger.”

“I knew what you and your friends are doing is dangerous, Mira. But also exciting! I only wish this train moved faster.”

“But you must promise.”

“I promise, Mira. But I'm almost as old as you; why should you be allowed to go out, and not I?”

“I, also, am not allowed; Papa has forbid us. But there is also a promise I must keep; a promise Papa cannot overrule. My friends; the women you met this morning; are alone, with no family but themselves. They are now my family, and I cannot choose between a family of blood and a family of faith; all are the same.”

Miravati and Hirava Mukerjea were scarcely inconspicuous, the only two women dressed in colourful silk wraps from head to foot while both wore heavy, black leather boots; but if any other passengers sharing their coach glared or glanced or gaped at them, the young women paid no attention as their train slowly shunted south-westward. It was important, Mira said, she travel to Lambeth and while she hadn't told her sister why this was important, Hirava knew their father's warehouse was in Lambeth somewhere near the docks, so she assumed that was their destination.

“The rail is faster than the trolley car, and has fewer stops. Papa's business is ten miles or more from home, and it is important we travel as quickly as possible; both because we do not want to be in that area after dark, and Papa will be angry that we have been gone one hour, much more an entire afternoon.”

“Then we _are_ going to Father's warehouse. Is there something... _aggh!_ ” Hirava's words were cut short as the train suddenly slowed, wheels screeching on the rails and jostling the passengers first forward; then back; and simultaneously to the side. “OH! This train! First it's slow, then it batters one about like a cricket ball. This is the way Father travels to work every day?”

“I believe Papa prefers the trolley-cars, behen. He is seldom in a hurry. This is only a commuter line that travels about London; it must make way for the express trains passing through. I did not expect express trains to be so frequent on Saturday afternoon.”

“Then...” Hirava placed the side of her face against the window, looking ahead as far as possible, trying to anticipate any upcoming sudden stops or curves, “...you must be looking for something at Father's warehouse; and it's a secret you don't want him to know of.” She turned back toward her sister, eyes wide: “You don't think Father's involved in any... _adventures_ , do you?”

“No, not Papa. You know how Papa is. Months ago, when Mama sent Aunti-ji and I to Papa's work because the weather had turned cold and he did not have a jacket, in a building nearby I thought I saw something that should not be; or, _could_ not be. At the time I only believed it was curious, and none of my business. But now I wonder if I what I observed was fated.”

“What was it, Mira? Did you see smugglers hiding things they shouldn't have? Thieves planning a crime? Bad men doing wrong things? Will we need to hide in the shadows and run for our lives!?”

“Nothing as exciting, or dangerous, as that. I would not place you in such harm. What I saw, I will tell you as we walk; the station is many streets from the warehouses and it is not good to talk of these things where others can hear.”

“Wandsworth!” The railway guard called out.

“Come, behen." Miravati gathered the hem of her skirt and moved toward the exit. "We must walk.”


	7. Part 7

**Chapter 12**

Miravati located the front door to her fathers' warehouse in only a few minutes; when not worrying if Aunti-ji would find fault in her posture or remind her of family expectations or otherwise counsel the wisdom of one's life choices, the walk was not as long as she'd remembered.

“Now, we must look up; to the stairways along the sides of the taller buildings, beyond the chimneys of the manufactories, toward the roof-lights. As I said, the light was reflected from inside, focused into a beam but because of the clouds, the light was cast back and in that reflection I saw shadows of men inside; many men, standing in a group, and one child; or, who I thought was a child.”

Mira led her sister around their father's warehouse, widening their search past businesses that had closed for the day; locked factory gates; and down streets of aloof, incongruous rowhouses that backed onto industrial buildings.

“I don't see anything like you describe, Mira. And today is sunny; if there was a light, it wouldn't be reflected.”

'No, but I would recognise the roof-light...there! At the end of this street, where it curves past the Timber Yard – the building with windows high in the walls. I think that is it; but I can't see the roof. Hirava, I'm going to cross through this alleyway and climb on that fence – do you see? You remain here; young girls shouldn't be walking through alleyways.”

“I'm almost the same age as you. And I could help you climb the fence, and hold your legs so you don't fall.”

“That's true. Come, but remain close and try not to scuff your boots. Aunti-ji would not be pleased.”

The two crossed the alley as watchfully as they could; Miravati continuing to look up at opened windows and fire ladders, as if she were expecting someone; and Hirava eager to see anything an alley could hold, imagining things wonderful and terrible; but found only the backs of buildings and broken furniture and a stray and mangy cat.

“I can almost see the top” Miravati stated, looking behind and around a pile of wood shavings. “If I can balance on this fence, perhaps that will be tall enough. Hirava, hold my foot so it doesn't slip. I have nothing to hold onto but this small and forgotten tree.”

“I have you, Mira! What do you see?”

“Yes, I see the roof-light...the very top of it. It is the same I remember. And something...hold me steady....”

“What da ya' girls think you're doin'?”

Miravati couldn't turn without losing her balance, but the man Hirava saw, of medium height and no distinct features, wore a set of overalls and poorly fitting-shirt and common flat cap. His lips were pulled back almost as those of an angry dog and although only slighter taller than herself, the shotgun he waved above his head made him look twice as large.

“I said, watch'a girls doin'? This 'ere's private property. Bossman's don' like no visitor's; least not any that plan on leavin'.”

“Run, Hirava! Run to the station!” Mira shouted.

“Mira, jump down!”

“My boot is stuck; I cannot move my foot.”

“ 'Ere, what's ya find, Poole?” said a second man, rounding the corner. “Trespassers?”

“Looks like trespassers ta' me” a third man said, following his companion. “Bossman will wanna know what's they seen.”

“Leave me, Hirava – run! I'm sorry.”

“No, Mira....” Hirava glanced down the alleyway and up toward the windows for help, but saw no one. She looked at the ground for a weapon or stick or rock, but found nothing.

“ 'N it's two young one's, to boot. If you like dark meat!” the second man laughed, wiping his chin on his sleeve. “Bossman don't have to know about 'em right away....”

“Don't mind dark, long as it's fresh.”

“Mira! I've untied your boot – jump! Jump now!”

Miravati slipped from her boot and the top of the fence, hitting the ground hard with one knee but was pulled to her feet by her sister. The third man shoved aside broken crates stacked against the fence and leapt over the top, landing on his feet and reached out for Miravati, who pulled aside despite the pain in her leg, and began hobbling, injured and with one shoe, down the alley, Hirava tightly grasping her hand and pulling her along. Behind them, the second man had cleared the fence and together with the third, bolted forward, making up two steps for the women's every one. Miravati could hear the deep, rasping breaths behind her and began to think how she could protect both Hirava and herself, realising that with one leg, she could defend neither. Hirava struggled toward the end of the alleyway, where three streets converged and two curved in opposite directions and there were backyards to hide in and not far away traffic and businesses and people; she stumbled against a splintered and abandoned table but pushed it away and kept on.

_Mrewwerr!!_

The stray and mangy cat; along with two in similar condition; jumped from behind the table, directly in front of the pursuing men, tripping one and frightening another.

“Wha' th'...damn cats” the second man said, kicking out at a cat that was long gone. “Come on, Poole, can't let 'em get away.”

Miravati and Hirava exited the alley and turned left; the most obvious direction, but also the direction toward the station.

“Mirava, hurry! They won't chase us to the station...will they?” She called out, gasping.

“I do not know, but we cannot take the risk. Keep running...even if I cannot.”

“No, Mirava, you WILL!”

Along the sidewalks and traffic the two young women; both in tightly-wrapped clothing, one gasping and dragging the other whose sari was bloodied at the knee and was wearing only one boot; felt even more exposed than they had in the alleyway. But the railway station was only a few yards ahead, and as they climbed the stairs and crowded in among other passengers waiting for the train, they each took deep, clearing breaths even as they looked side to side and anxiously at the stairs, expecting any moment one, or two, or three men would arrive to carry them away.

<<<<<< >>>>>>

The train jerked forward and back and wrenched side to side and moved slowly; but every action assured Miravati and Hirava they were traveling further from those men and closer to home.

“Behen, I am sorry. I should not have brought you; I was foolish and irresponsible. This was too dangerous, and you could have been injured. If that were to happen, I could never seek forgiveness.”

“But we are fine, didi. Other than your leg, which we should be thankful is not broken, we are fine. And it was dangerous, but also exciting!”

“What of Mama, and Papa, and Auntie-ji? What will we tell them of my ruined sari and missing boot and why we left the house?”

“But you saw the roof-light, did you not? So you have not forsaken your friends.” Hirava glanced down at her boots which were dusty and scratched and on the bottom, held evidence of stray and mangy alleyway cats. “Auntie-ji will not be pleased...about our clothing, and about everything else. But we will think of something, Mira. We always have.”

“Yes, I recognised the roof-light and the building...and, just before those men arrived, something more. I believe I saw...him.”

“Him?”

“The little man; I saw him looking out a window. He was looking at us. The little man Mr. Sherlock Holmes seeks.”

**Chapter 13**

No one should have suspected five boys idly standing just beyond the corner of Leeman and Allie Streets, steps away from the German / American School and certainly nearer to a school than most of these boys had ever been. But in Whitechapel, many years after the _occurrences_ , the only suggestion of the Ripper many would dare mention; anyone passing through the area anticipated trouble and locals looked over their shoulders and carefully noted any unfamiliar face. Nevertheless the five boys, none yet accustomed to their teens and two continuing to aspire to that age, while unmistakable as local lads still drew glances of concern resulting in passers-by crossing to the other side of the street. Soap, it appeared, was to these boys an unfamiliar luxury; neatness an unknown concept; and what could be seen of their mis-matched and poorly-fitting clothes consisted of patches covering forgotten holes and newly-formed holes awaiting future patching.

“How long we gotta wait here?”

“Mr. 'Olmes said 'ed be by at one-a-clock.”

“Wha' timesit now?”

“Can't be much past one. Didn' you read the clock at the 'ospital?”

“Was lookin' in the street for bits 'n bobs. Can' be doin' both together.”

Marbles Jack; among friends known simply as 'Jack', just as the others answered to: 'Stinks'; 'Pockets'; 'Lil', to his continual frustration; and...'Arthur', had better things to do than hang about one of the poorest street corners in London when there were far more rewarding street corners available, and Pockets was just about to suggest it wasn't necessary for _all_ of them to wait when Mr. Holmes' business was with Jack; when a down-on-his luck sailor rounded the corner, pushing his way into the group.

“Ya boys wouldn' know 'bout any ships lookin' for a good han', would ya'? he garbled. Only the slightest smell of alcohol was on his breath, so the man probably wasn't drunk, and he was able to walk and stand on his two feet, although not well, so his mind probably wasn't befuddled by cocaine or any other substances from foreign lands.

_'Some kinda kook'_ , Pockets assumed;

_'One of 'em bluejackets that's got thrown out'_ , Lil decided;

_'Punchy from too much fightin'_ , Stinks thought;

_'Wonder if 'e's got any money on 'em'_ , Arthur questioned;

_'Looks kinda hungry'_ , Jack concluded.

“Says inside they's got help for men that's needs it, but jus' tell me I ain't got no more help comin'. What kinda reliefers is that, promise a man somethin' then don't give 'em nothin'. I'm a good han' only need me a capt'n that'll give me a chance.” He held forward his hands, swollen and broken and red where they weren't grey and grimed, but the boys turned away, pitying a man who had fallen so far while at the same time envying the experiences of his descent.

“Haven' heard 'a nothin', Mister” Jack answered. “Things been kinda slow, what with all them army ships comin' in. Docks full 'a Limeys an' Red-Caps, don' give a man a chance. 'A course, you can always try....”

“Pardon me, may I be of assistance?”

Dressed in black frock coat and matching pants, both well-cared for but shiny and beginning to thin, the man appeared from nowhere. Hatless, his hair was generously greased and parted in the middle; he wore a pair of rimless glasses balanced at the end of his nose, above a generous mustache connected directly to his sideburns which further accentuated his already rounded cheeks. He moved purposely but reassuringly, taking the sailors arm in one hand and placing the other at his back. There was no knowing his age; he could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty; his most distinctive feature was the crisp, white collar standing above his lapels.

“Naw, sir, I was jus' talkin' with them boys, askin' if they know 'a work. Aren't causin' no trouble, I aren't.” He started to pull away, but the clergyman's grip was tight.

“We all face difficult times; and each of us is our brothers keeper” he said in a throaty and subdued voice. “How long has it been since you've had a good meal, my friend?”

“Don' know. Four, maybe five day.”

“Well, a man can't work on an empty stomach! Come with me; our mission is just a few buildings away.”

“I aren't one for that bible-teachin', Father” the sailor stumbled, his lack of religious knowledge extending to pastoral identification.

“Only one man helping another, my friend” the clergyman replied. “The only Bible involved are the words shared with us by yet another, simple Man: _'W_ _hatsoever ye would that men should do to_ _you: d_ _o ye even so to them_.” He urged the sailor forward, with little resistance.

“And what of each of you?” the minister added, turning back toward the boys.

“Us?”

“I would say a good meal and brush-up would do each of you a bit of good. Get you off the streets, perhaps open your minds and re-fresh your souls.”

“We don' need nothin', Mister”, Pockets answered.

“Go'in do yur bible-thumpin' somwheres else”, Lil agreed.

“What ya' think we are, a bunch a hoodlums?”, Arthur added.

“I see. Then if those Dock Authority Officers I was speaking with earlier should ask if I've seen any boys on the cusp of mischief, I'll know those boys, aren't you.”

“We ain' done nothin'!”, Stinks protested.

“And that, your current lack of purpose, is of great concern” Sherlock Holmes replied, lowering his voice and looking directly at Jack. “Many duties await with comparatively few hours in which those duties can be discharged. One can't lallyabout street corners when there are crimes to be solved. Come along.”

<<<<<< >>>>>>

“If we was comin' over 'ere, then why did you want us ta' meet ya' on the streetcorner, Mr. 'Olmes?” Jack questioned, sitting alongside the other four boys at the only open table of the crowded mission opposite, to anyone who noticed, a dedicated and well-meaning minister clearly attempting to convince the boys of Greater Truths.

“My boys,” Holmes began far too loudly but quickly fell to a conspiratorial whisper, “not by that name, Jack. You know I only present myself _incognito_ for specific reasons, and while in this costumed state no one should be aware of my true identity. Arranging to meet at one of the most well-traveled yet disreputable corners was obvious; anyone observing with the expectation of discovering our purpose would have, after a sufficient amount of time, believed you were not awaiting my arrival but only looking for a handout or seeking, as you would say, 'interesting opportunities'.” He looked at each of the other boys, none of which would directly meet his glance. “The unanticipated conversation with your sea-faring acquaintance provided further opportunity to disguise our purposes and allowed a good deed to be done. Such occasions should never be wasted.”

Jack tilted his chair on its back legs, turned his head to the left and saw the sailor had been given a tray of food, steaming mug, and blanket, relishing all three.

“Anyone expecting a meeting between myself and my so-named 'Irregulars', each of whom are well-known throughout London by those on both sides of the law, would now be ruefully disappointed for at this moment I am at the University of London attending a fascinating lecture concerning, I believe, recent innovations in surgical anesthesias. Pity that Watson is out of the country and unable to accompany me.”

“So yur sayin' we're bein' watched, Mr...uh, Mr...Minister?” Pockets asked, looking from one side of the room to the next even as his neck and shoulders shrunk into his coat.

“Assuredly. There should be no reason not.”

“Why?” Stinks added.

“Because those women, well-meaning but unknowing, have stumbled upon a scheme larger than even I first imagined; and by their actions which succeeded only in the removal of insignificant street-toughs, have upset a proverbial wasps nest which, if not prevented, could undermine the well-being of all of London.”

“Sounds pretty bad” Arthur declared.

“That would be an understatement” Holmes agreed. “Based upon the information uncovered earlier today, I have cultivated an understanding of the true nature of this criminality, and am formulating a complementary plan in which you all have a part. But this is not the place for such discussions; I would like each of you, individually and by your own methods; to report to Baker Street this evening between the hours of four and four-fifteen. It is imperative that in a few moments, each of you depart by separate ways and do nothing to cause attention to yourselves, even if that involves doing little for the upcoming hours than wondering aimlessly while remaining within the law.”

“Ah, wekindo tha', uh, Sir.” Lil offered.

“I have little doubt. Any questions?”

The boys looked between one another but none spoke.

“As an additional incentive, know that by the time each of you arrive Mrs. Hudson will have prepared tea and she bears no tardiness. And to that,” Holmes' voice gradually grew louder until it was obvious to all in the room, “may I have an 'Amen!'”

“Amen!” the five boys shouted in unison.


	8. Part 8

**Chapter 14**

Every bit of Tess Atker's body, from toes to hair, hurt in more ways than she had thought possible. But someone was knocking at the front door to Etta Candy's flat, and as of this morning, when Tess assured Etta and Eve she'd be fine; they should go about their errands and besides, _'probly sleep the whole day'_ , she'd said; Tess was alone. She struggled from the chair and foot-rest Etta had set for her, along with the recently-added side table over-supplied with various newspapers; magazines; books; an extra blanket; a stereopticon with card set entitled 'Travels of the World'; the serving tray Etta kept almost constantly filled with tea and nibbles; and hobbled to the door. Every movement burned or throbbed or ached, but Tess had vowed to manage without any more help than was absolutely necessary, and she was determined not to be an invalid despite how much help she'd been offered.

The rasp of metal against wood sounded three more times just as Tess reached the doorway. “I'm not alone”, she called in her strongest voice.

“Miss Atker?” a man's voice returned, full and cultured while edging a bit toward the higher ranges. “It is Sherlock Holmes. Have you a moment?”

Tess unlocked the door and cracked it just enough to peek at her visitor; although if anyone had tried to force their way in, she hadn't the strength the oppose. “Mr. Holmes,” Tess smiled as best she could. “Weren't expecting you. Come in” she offered, tugging the door open despite the pain in her shoulder.

“I trust this isn't poor timing” Holmes stated, upon entering immediately deducing Tess was the only person in the house. At some point between Whitechapel and Etta's door-steps, he had removed the false mustache and sideburns; pocketed the eyeglasses; reversed his shirt collar so that it no longer appeared as that of a man of the cloth; brushed his hair; and disposed of the cotton he'd held inside his mouth, returning his cheeks to their usual drawn appearance. He hadn't the time or clothing to change from his plain and shiny suit, but that was of little matter.

“Naw, Mr. Holmes. Just...tidying up the place, ya know.” Tess lifted a random decoration and replaced it to almost its same position. “Only time's a body can get anything done. Etta and Eve just stepped out for a moment.” From these few minutes of effort she was already tiring.

“Then perhaps I'll soon have the pleasure of their company. But it's you I've come to see; I've a concern I was hoping we would find an opportunity to discuss. Would it be more convenient if we sat?” he suggested, recognising Tess was quickly fading.

“Me? Oh, where's my manners. Yes, please sit” she gestured around the room. “Wouldn't do me any harm to get of my feet for a bit.” She eased into her chair with an audible sigh.

“Miss Atker, I'm concerned about your health.” Holmes took a seat at the edge of the couch, nearest Tess but still feet away.

“Oh, I'm doing well” Tess answered. “A course, some time's it's a bit worse than others, but we all got our crosses.” She painfully inched her blanket around her torso, which Holmes noticed but determined Tess's pride was more important than his gallantry.

“Injuries such as yours; compounded one upon another; should be cared for in a hospital, not a friends sitting room.”

“I'm not goin' back into one of them hospitals. People die in hospitals.”

“Excellent observation with which I'll not disagree. However, there are many situations in which people may die...nevertheless, it is not only your physical condition which concerns me; but your mental state.”

“You're not sayin' I'm goin' batty, 're you, Mr. Holmes?” Tess started to laugh before stabbing pains in her chest and back limited her to an awkward grimace.

“Perhaps that was an inadequate word; not your mental health, as much as your emotional. The female psyche was not intended to endure hardships; although I am sad to state such hardships occur far too often. In my experience, the mind heals far more slowly than the body; occasionally, never. Women, with their greater sensibilities and heightened nature, are particularly susceptible to symptoms of neurosis and melancholia brought about by un-necessary suffering.”

“What's it to you?” Tess challenged, seeing Holmes had little knowledge of the amount of pain nearly every woman silently suffers and certainly no idea of the pain and loss she'd known in her life.

“In many ways, I feel responsible for your injuries. I had attempted to warn Miss Prince of the dangers and difficulties of her proposed actions, but to no use. Actually, having only been introduced, I had little faith she'd follow through with her intentions. At the time, I didn't realise she is of such a...willful personality. Still, if I had been more perceptive and less prone to assumption, I could have foreseen both the efforts of you and your companions and taken steps to lessen the dangers. And for my failures, I am sorry.”

“Tweren't nothin', Mr. Holmes. Diana said she didn't want you 'round, anyways.”

“I see. One day, perhaps, she and I will have the opportunity to come to an understanding. But I know, Miss Atker; too well; the tolls of trauma and nerves. I admire and respect your desire to, as is the physicians creed _'heal thyself'_ ; a point upon which Watson and I ironically disagree.” Holmes pulled from the interior pocket of his jacket a small black leather box; not much wider or longer than a cigarette case but twice as thick, secured with a small brass clasp. “And that is why I've found this quite helpful in overcoming those occurrences of... _greyness_.”

He opened the lid and turned the container toward Tess, revealing compartments fitted with a metal and glass syringe and set of needles and series of small glass vials, all innocently enfolded in velvet.

Tesses' eyes blinked in disbelief and her body involuntarily shuddered. “Is that the cocaine?”

“Of the same family. Processed to my own specifications to remove the more undesirable components one might find in a typical formulation. I trust you are not familiar?”

“Ah, no, Mr. Holmes. Seen some on it, 'n it leads to no good. Got the devil in it, I've heard.”

“I doubt any supernatural being would confine itself to such rudimentary influence. The Devil, as it were, is as much in the application as in the product. It is true that if taken to extremes, either in quantity or frequency, a man can find evil in most anything. But under my direction, I believe you will find its abilities to calm and heal of far more worth than any potential harm.”

“You're sayin' that will help...me get back to myself?”

“Under the proper direction.”

Tess was hesitant, but knew; or believed she knew; Sherlock Holmes would suggest only with the best intentions and he assured her only a few dosages would make a world of difference. Under his instruction by word and example, she tied the handkerchief around her upper arm; paused no more than a second and drove the needle through flesh, pushing the plunger until the syringe was empty. She would have liked to have closed her eyes and turned her head away, as she did years ago when the doctors had told her the medicine would keep away the smallpox, but there were no doctors near and she had to do this herself, Mr. Holmes had said.

Even as he tucked the blanket around her and made certain she was comfortable, Tess began to doze away, her pains of body and mind fading; but this wasn't like sleep, she thought; the pains didn't fade as much as they floated, still present but slightly removed as if her body had been loosened and became something she could choose to occupy or not. She knew Sherlock Holmes had stepped onto the front steps, pulled the door closed behind him and rattled the latch to confirm it had locked; but Tess held no care. She felt as though she could sleep like this for days.

**Chapter 15**

“A body would think you boys hadn't eaten in weeks” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed as she replaced the second tray of biscuits; butter; jam; tarts; and sandwiches that she'd arranged on the initial platter as delicately constructed layers of spread and filling between crust-less bread but by this third serving had evolved into pieces of meat and cheese stuffed between the halves of any roll that had been in the kitchen.

“Naw, we eat all the time” Stinks explained. “Jus' nothin' as good.”

“Once you've completed your banquet,” Holmes announced, now dressed in creased pants and house-jacket with no traces of costume remaining, “we must proceed with our work. Time grows short.”

“With ya in a minute” Jack replied, stuffing two tarts into his mouth which he started to wipe onto his shirtsleeve until Mrs. Hudson unceremoniously pushed a napkin into his hand. Around the table, the other boys took the clue and grabbed at nearby linens, two dipping the cloths into their water glasses before rubbing their faces and others letting out loud burps of satisfaction, which was too much for Mrs. Hudson who replied with a shocked “Hrumpph!” and retreated to the kitchen.

“Gather 'round the fire” Holmes announced, un-folding a map of London on a low table between six chairs he'd arranged in a circle.

“There eren't no after-dinner smokes?” Pockets suggested.

“No,” Holmes answered, somewhat surprised although hardly shocked. “Mrs. Hudson shall be spared any further indignities. Now,” he began as the boys jostled for places, each perceived as slightly preferable to another although all were basically the same, “you are aware of the series of crimes and inexplicable occurrences which have befallen London in the past weeks: Women assaulted and jewels thieved; attacks suffered by citizens who hold no connections or association. Suspects, when apprehended descending into mental collapse and those who evade arrest appearing free in body while behaving as if mesmerized. Un-explained deaths of people and animals; and reports of a child, or child-sized person, near at hand during many such events.”

“Yah, but it eren't no boy that's doin' all that” Arthur offered. “Pockets and Lil and me think it's some kinda goblin.”

“Ur maybe a elf but they aren' usely alone.”

“Be that as it may, this afternoon I chanced upon information concerning an individual long known by the police as having engaged in colorful but rather harmless crimes, who, as my contacts state, is now 'onto something big'; rumour that this _something_ involves the accumulation and manipulation of large quantities of gemstones; that he has secured the assistance of numerous crooks, cons, and riffraff engaged toward this goal; that, within London's criminal underworld he is known for outrageous claims of mental acuity and 'physic manipulation'; and...“ Holmes paused, glancing from boy to boy who hung on his every word; “...this person can be readily-identified by his embodiment of dwarfism.”

“Ya' mean he's a runt?” Jack suggested.

“I've always believed that manner of nonspecific colloquialism results in unfair categorization. Watson, whom I've cabled to confirm the symptoms and effects of such a condition, affirms 'dwarfism' is the accepted medical term, however until I am corrected otherwise I prefer to refer to 'a person of unfortunate deformity'.”

“Then this, uh, cripple, you think he's the one behind it all, Mr. Homes?” Arthur asked. “ 'N all we gotta do is stop 'im?”

“At cause? So the evidence suggests. Preventing his further actions is another matter. You see,” he drew the boy's attention to the map, “if he, or any other, is the centre of an elaborate scheme, he must operate from an established position; a 'base of operations', if you would. I have uncovered no information as to such a location, however we can easily deduce the most likely probabilities based upon previous crimes. In these three areas,” he circled each in pencil, “have occurred the majority of assaults. Here,” he identified, “is the location where Miss Prince and her companions encountered and detained three suspects; in addition to reporting having seen a 'small boy' lurking about, which has also been reported here; here; here; and here” each he marked with a large 'X'. “And the sudden and temporary sequence of mysterious deaths, largely of pigeons, stray dogs and alley-way cats but also resulting in the deaths of at least two humans, occurred within this radius.”

“That's all 'bout the same place” Lil observed.

“Yea, other side atha' Thames, where all those factories're.” Stinks noted.

“And what other do you see?” Holmes asked.

“Well, there's the tracks” Pockets added.

“ 'N streets 'n streets 'a flats” Arthur said.

“ An' just opposite, Westminster, an' all them governm't buildings, an' the King's house” Jack recognised.

“That's correct” Holmes affirmed. “While centered at Vauxhall, virtually every point we've specified is within two miles of Buckingham Palace; Parliament; Number 10, Downing Street; Westminster Abbey; and the centre of London. The heart of the Empire.”

“Then we gotta go to Vauxhall, Mr. Holmes. We can find'im, and you can stop 'im.”

“If only it were so simple, Jack. Vauxhall is a large area filled with circuitous routes, impasses, and blind corners. We will, of course, _reconnoitre_ to the best of our abilities and seek out whatever information we may, factual or hearsay, the plans of which we will discuss forthwith; but without personal witness we can only hope our work is completed with sufficient haste to prevent additional deaths; or before the main objective of these foul crimes, whatever that may be, is accomplished.”

“Yu' ain't heard nothing more, Mr. Holmes? Jus' he's a little fella with big ideas?”

“If one is at the right place, listening more than talking, there are names bandied about, the accuracy of which I am uncertain but include the honorifics 'Bossman'; 'the Doc', which I have been unable to determine refers to medical credentials or vanity; and the most distinctive clue, the name 'Cizko'.”


	9. Part 9

**Chapter 16**

London Policewoman Kate Sandsmark, through considerable effort both within and outside her official duties, had managed to narrow the most recent location of 'The Great Talbot' to _somewhere_ in Brighton. She'd convinced her Matron; Sergeant; and Chief Inspector of incomplete documents which must be attested-to and signed before a case file could be closed; stated the final deponent necessary to sign said documents had located to Brighton; and assured such signature could only be obtained under an officer's care. Kate had twice visited the sea-side city; once with her parents and brothers and uncles and aunts and five annoying and undisciplined cousins; and a few years past on an ill-conceived romantic rendezvous which the less said the better. But if Talbot followed his usual habits, as most criminals do, she was certain he'd be found somewhere very close, or within, the areas most frequented by visitors: Piers, sea-walks, and 'conveniences' appealing to those on holiday while sheltering all manner of rascals, rogues, bucksters, _artistes_ , and other questionable personages. In uniform or civilian clothing, she would be obvious. Fortunately, she knew someone who wouldn't.

"...'n that's why you don't never want to believe one a' them, Miss Etta. Nearly never" Eve finished as Etta Candy turned the key to her front door and the two stepped inside. "Well, that's very good information, Eve. I'll certainly remember if I ever find myself in need of itinerant French pantomimists."

"Shhh, Tess's asleep." Kate set down the magazine she'd been paging through and turned toward the doorway. "She's been resting as long as I've been here; about half an hour. I used the key you left me, Etta, and I've been waiting. I hope that's alright."

Etta looked toward the front window, at the chair and footstool she'd arranged for Tess who appeared to be sleeping far more deeply than a padded parlour-room chair should allow. "Oh, we took longer than we should. Of course, Kate, that's why I wanted you to have it - someone has to check on Tess. Seems the day just got away from us, we were having such an enjoyable time. Isn't that right, Eve?"

"All-in-all, Miss Etta. Could 'a done without the clothes-trying-on part, though. Didn't care much for that."

"That was the entire purpose of our trip, dear," Etta sighed; "and successfully completed. Wait until you see the lovely outfits we found, Kate. Eve will scarcely be the same girl."

"I need her to be the same for a bit more. Let's go in here where we can talk."

"Can I get everyone a cup of tea?" Etta offered the moment she'd stepped into the kitchen, the sight of cabinets and cupboards and guests and an empty tea-pot triggering some deeply-seated compulsion.

"Maybe later, thank you" Kate replied; "come and sit with us; there's something we need to discuss."

"Oh, is this official business?" Etta asked, removing her hat and taking a chair at her little kitchen table. "Not more robberies and assaults, are there?"

"No, not that I've been informed. And 'official', only as it connects to Diana..."

"Diana!?" Eve perked.

"...and Mr. Holmes."

"Oh." Eve drooped.

"Diana mentioned last night, just before we, ah...apprehended those suspects in the alley..."

"That was only last night?" Etta interrupted. "It seems like ages ago!"

"Yes, just yesterday. She said each of the suspects; every man; seemed almost unable to control himself, their actions ranging from fury to irrationality to insanity. Mr. Holmes is interested in someone he's identified as possessing significant mental abilities and who speculates in the potential to harness un-worldly powers. Today I learned there have been reports of animals - abandoned dogs; loose cats; even birds - with no signs of being attacked or ill, yet behaving in inexplicable ways leading to their deaths. And the reports show every assault holds only one thing in common; theft of precious jewels, usually of rather large size. Despite what other injuries or losses to victims, each were missing necklaces or pendants or broaches or stick-pins consisting of substantial gems."

"Couldn't that be their technique, Kate? Only attack those wearing the most obvious valuables?"

"Possibly; but gemstones have more uses than demonstrating one's wealth; scientists have found, if aligned and focused properly, the stones can split and amplify light. Some believe, if oriented so light reflects within and between gems large enough or in sufficient quantity, it's possible to control _energy_ and transmit it directly through the air."

"Like lightening?"

"Yes, Eve, or any other type of energy. Possibly even energy that's invisible. _Psychic_ energy."

"Ahh, now Kate, that sounds like Spiritualism. Calling on the dead and bells ringing in darkened rooms and someone's great Aunt Bertha appearing from 'the other side' when she'd hardly taken the time to visit you on this side" Etta scoffed. "You don't believe in that, do you Kate?"

"I don't know if I do; but some of the greatest minds in the world think there may be something to it. But that's not what I'm talking about;" she faced Eve; "I wonder if someone, with practised mental skills, has found a way to enhance those skills so he's not only _reading_ minds, but controlling them."

"Wha?" Eve replied. "You talking about _Talbot_?"

"Talbot, or someone like him."

"Lawd, Officer Kate, that's all made up. I scout the marks...uh, audience, when they walk in, lookin' at their clothes and the expressions on their faces, and if they're alone or with somebody else, and their shoes - shoes is important, let me tell you - and notin' down the most interesting one's on little slips of paper, where they're sitting and so forth. Then, just before the show starts, I give the papers to Talbot who hides them in his hat or inside his sleeves or in little pockets sewn into his cape and when he goes into a 'trance' he's just pulling out a paper and reading it. It's all made up, jus' for fun."

"Well, Eve, some people are paying high prices for that 'fun', as you well know."

"I'm sorry, Officer Kate. I never wanted to do it in the first place, but...there was nothing else."

"That's all over and done, so no need reflecting back on it" Etta announced.

Kate bit her lower lip, uncertain if she should continue; what she was about to suggest would place her reputation, personally and professionally, into question. "When Diana and I went to your 'show', Eve, and spoke with Talbot, he knew things about her he shouldn't; things Diana was surprised to hear and, I think, wished to hide. I don't know what that could have been, but I'm not convinced Talbot is only a back-street huckster but he holds, to some degree, abilities he may, or may not, understand. Is he behind the assaults and robberies; the attacks and murders? No, I don't believe so; but whoever is, he and Talbot inhabit the same world. Talbot's not going to willingly disclose any secrets; his or others; and," Kate placed her hand on top of Eve's, "I need you to draw them out of him."

"Wha? I'm not goin' back into that, not jus' when I got out." Eve's complexion rose to scarlet, she turned her head so the women wouldn't see the tears forming in her eyes. "She can't make me, can she, Miss Etta? I'd rather go to prison. Here, Officer, Kate," she held out her arms, "put the cuffs on me. I'd rather go to prison. You don't know what it's like, livin' like that, nothing to call your own and not knowing where you'll sleep tomorrow an' men gawking an' grabbin' at ya' an' every night takin' advantage a people and feelin' bad about it and wishin' you didn' have to an'...an' bein' alone. I'm not goin' back!" She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her new blouse long before Etta could offer her a handkerchief.

"No, Eve, that's not what I meant, not at all" Kate emphasised. "It will all be an act, just for a few minutes, and I'll be there with you; just outside, listening to everything that's said and watching that nothing happens to you. I'd never, _never_ ask you, or anyone, to go back to that life. I'm sorry if that's what you thought, Eve."

"You're safe with us now, dear, and we only have your best interests to heart" Etta affirmed, taking Eve's hands into hers and glancing accusingly at Kate. "No one's going to take you away, and no one's going to take anything more from you."

"Then it'll all be pretend? For a few minutes?"

"That's right, Eve. In Brighton. Visit the seashore?"

"I've never been to the seashore. Just th' Thames. That's not the same, is it?"

"No, that's not the same" Etta replied. "Do you think you can be brave and strong enough to help Kate?"

"I _am_ brave and strong. Diana said so. Officer Kate,..." Eve sat up in her chair, smiling as best she could and wiping her eyes and nose on Etta's well-used handkerchief. "...when do we leave?"

**Chapter 17**

Eve had barely slept in thirty six hours, excluding the nap she'd taken Sunday morning during the Church services Etta insisted she attend. Kate and Tess and Etta assumed Eve's restlessness was due to excitement over her imminent visit to Brighton; and while this was partially true; the railway to Brighton scheduled at over two hours and Eve had never been on such a long journey nor so far from London; what Eve felt wasn't exhaustion, but anxiety. Despite the assurances of Officer Kate and Etta's promises, Eve knew what it was like to be abandoned and how easily a person can be discarded when someone else decides they're no longer needed. She didn't expect any of her new friends to do that to her, of course; but she hadn't expected it to have happened before, either.

So as they sat side-by-side in their standard-class coach, Kate wasn't too concerned that Eve had so far uncharacteristically said very little, attributing her silence to drowsiness; and Eve had tried to let loose of her worries and appreciate the moment, absorbing the sights passing her window: Forests apparently without end, certainly filled with highway-men and wild animals and possibly even forest-folke; gentle, sweeping hills pocketed with fairy-tale villages; and, nine times now; she'd been counting; groups of cows standing in grassy fields when all her life she'd never actually thought of just where cows live. The train steadily traveled southward, having already passed Croydon and Coulsdon and coming into Crawley when Kate, trying to break the silence, stated she was thirsty and asked if Eve would like something from the porter.

"What do you think Talbot's doin' in Brighton, Officer Kate? Particularly since this isn't the time 'a year for holiday-makers."

"Talbot?" Kate replied, expecting Eve to have requested tea or sandwich or cake. "Most likely engaged in another of his schemes. Believes he's disappeared and left London far behind. Quite a shock he'll have to see us, I should think."

"He's run the show there before, you know" Eve stated indifferently.

"His act? When was that?"

"Lila told me, when she was his assistant. Said he was working on one of those spiritualism schemes - make people think he can talk with someone they know that's dead, then tell 'em just enough the first time so they keep coming back. _'Lot's of people looking for what they've lost'_ , he'd say. _'And willing to pay good money to be told what they want to hear.'_ He'd gone in with a partner and they'd got a building and everything; used to be a church, Lila said, so that would make it more believable, like there was really something religious about it."

"But it didn't work out the way he'd planned?" In all her research and investigation, Kate hadn't come across anything Eve was sharing.

"All Talbot wanted to do was rig up some tricks - wires that make a table look like it can float in the air, trapdoors in the floor, wardrobes that open up into other rooms; but this partner said they don't need any of that, between the two of 'em, they can make people believe _anything_ he wants 'em to believe, all he needs is someone to stand up front dressed smart, but him - the partner - he'd be backstage doing all the real work, talkin' with spirits or whatever. That's when Lila says she's had enough and she's not getting mixed up in anything un-Godly and tells Talbot he has to choose between her and the partner." Eve turned from the window and toward her seat-mate. "Talbot's; _Percy's_ ; not a bad person, Officer Kate. I think he's lost. Sometimes he believes his act more than the audience does. He'd like to be able to know the future, and tell fortunes, and maybe even _'go beyond the veil'_ , like he says, but it's easier running a two-penny grift than it is looking for something and bein' afraid to find it. He's done some things I can't account for - like when you and Diana come to the show and was sitting up on the top row, and Talbot says Diana's from a long way away and he sees a sword and shield, meaning Diana's strong and brave. He was right, and I don't know how he did that. But then he just makes a joke about it being a good guess or something. When that partner of his said he could really make those things happen I think Talbot got scared, and told Lila he'd just keep on with the mind-reading act and drop all that talk about spirits. I told her I wouldn't mind trying it, being his assistant, and she said she'd be there to keep me safe but then, she wasn't." Eve turned back to the window, where she could loose herself in the trees.

"Did your sister say what happened to the partner? Did he remain in Brighton?"

"Only that she and Talbot had to get out quick 'cause the partner got mad and said they'd be sorry; that he wasn't going to let a common carnival performer cheat him out of his due. Then he disappeared and the last Lila said about it, they never heard from him again and it must 'a been a bluff. Month or so ago Talbot told me this summer we'd go and set up the show in that church; it'd be almost like a holiday and it wouldn't be like we was taking advantage of all those people out for 'a good time', 'cause in a place like that they wouldn't mind a bit a fun. That old church, I guess he never sold it back."

"You may have saved us many hours investigative work, Eve. Much of what you told me isn't in Talbot's police records and I uncovered nothing in the newspapers. See," she smiled, "I knew you were just the right person to bring along."

"Thank you, Officer Kate. It's just things I remember. Hot cocoa and ginger snaps."

"What's that about cocoa and ginger snaps?"

"It's what I'd like from the porter, please. If he has 'em."


	10. Part 10

**Chapter 18**

Beneath the glass and iron roof, train-side platforms and concourses flowing with exuberant crowds, from the moment Eve stepped from the coach she thought Brighton looked like any other British town, comparing her initial impression with the same glass roofs and excitable crowds of the only other two British rail stations she'd ever visited, Fenchurch and Victoria; in her estimation therefore typical of all rail stations and carried through to equally corresponding similarities between the only two cites she'd ever seen. But when she and Kate walked by stands selling colorful stick candies, some with minuature writing hidden inside; and passed under outlines of fish ornately formed within the ceiling's metal posts and bracing; when Eve noticed most if not seemingly all the passengers were dressed in holiday clothing with jaunty hats and striped vests and although the temperature here was a bit warmer than it had been in London it was still cool enough to wear a jacket; and as they exited onto a broad, brick courtyard looking down upon the city, although the ocean was more than half-a-mile away she could almost taste the salt-filled air; Eve realised this wasn't the same, at all.

"Is that the sea, Officer Kate?" Eve asked, standing on her toes, peering over rooftops and around corners of the buildings stair-stepping down the hill. There's so...much of it."

"Yes, that's one of the things it's known for. You'll have a better look from our hotel. Now," she continued, deciding between the two streets leading from the station and the port cochere passing in front, "we need to find the trolley stop, and continue to our hotel. Once settled, we'll grab a bite to eat and set out to that church you told me about. I doubt Talbot's there at this time of day, but seeing it will give me a better idea what he may be up to."

"Our hotel's near the sea!? Eve cheered. "What's it called? Can we see the beach? Let's walk, Officer Kate. It can't be that far - and it's all downhill!"

"I've reserved a room at the ' _Old Ship_ ', off Kings Road. I remember it's directly across the groyne from the beach; if we finish our work in time, we can actually visit the beach, Eve."

"We're staying in a ship!?" Eve questioned. "I don't even know how to swim, not much. And what's a _groyne_? Sounds like something you'd see a doctor about."

"Not an actual ship; that's the name of the hotel, on dry land; or so I hope. The waves can come close, I understand. It's a wall that separates the shore from the land."

"A wall, Officer Kate?" Eve mumbled, distracted by a barrow filled with salted smelt. "Here're those little fish Miss Etta told me about."

"We'll need a more substantial supper than that, if we're to track down and confront Talbot; remember, Eve, this isn't a holiday but serious work. You can carry your case?"

" 'A course; there's not much to it." She lifted her small hold-all aloft, the latches polished and leather stiff as it was at the shop the day before. "Don't worry about Percy, Officer Kate. I'll do just what we talked about, he'll think I've come back to beg for my old job and I'll make it like I'm desperate and he knows I can do the work so he'll explain what I gotta do in this new act whatever he's doin' and before you know it he'll tell us all he knows and you can come out and tell him we're on to him and then we can go to the beach."

The building, off Mighell Street and less than a twenty-minute walk from the hotel, had clearly been intended and at one time served as a small, but legitimate church. The steeple; and double entrance doors just past an inviting set of of steps; and even the sign fronting the street were still in place; but rather than stating denomination and name of minister and worship schedules, the board announced:

_Redemption Spiritualist Centre_

_Rev. Dr. P. Talbot_ _,_ _Divine Adorator_

_meetings each Monday, Thursday and Friday 7:30 pm;_

_Saturday 7 and 10 pm;_

_or by arrangement_

\- _All who Seek are Welcome_ -

Kate hadn't expected to find Talbot to be fronting such a polished presentation; nor that, even during the winter months when his potential audience was at their lowest he'd stick to his posted schedule; but the Metropolitan Police had only granted her two days to fulfill this duty and as far as she was concerned, confronting Talbot tonight was as good a night as any. Before they left that evening she insisted Eve dress in the costume they'd decided upon; 'just in case'; and, she wasn't certain Eve's bravery would bear through both one more day _and_ temptations of the sea-coast.

"What do you think, Eve?" Kate asked as they hovered in the doorway of a building cross-ways from the 'church'. "The set-ups a bit different than his usual act, but do you see anything that would make you think he's working with a partner, or cause us to change our plans?"

"Hard to say, Officer Kate. I know he can't be running the same routine, ya' gotta stand right next to the mark; I mean, whoever Talbot's 'reading'; so they think it's all part a the act... Inside a church, not enough room to get close enough, between those benches they got. He never told me nothing about another partner, in fact he said workin' with anyone else is just halfin' the take."

"It's nearly six" Kate confirmed, looking at the wrist-watch she hadn't yet become accustomed to, a time-piece pinned to one's blouse seeming far more practical and less breakable. "Only an hour or so before the audience arrives. You remember what to do; you're not quite as frightened as you were?"

"No, Officer Kate" Eve replied. "I'm not scared at all"; wishing she wasn't.

The two walked past the somber yet flowery front entrance to a set of inconspicuous, plain doors around the corner, opposite a small empty lot and adjacent to an alleyway. Eve tentatively tugged at the handle of the door to her right, which opened easily but caught its twin, pulling it partially open with a haunting screech followed by a disarming groan as the door fell back into place. Eve started though the doorway, making certain the tap-tap of her shoes couldn't be ignored, and looked back at Kate who remained a few steps behind and in the shadows. Before the door closed, Kate swept in, keeping silent and close to the wall.

"How do?" Eve questioned into the space, illuminated brown and grey by a minimum of electric lamps consisting of bare bulbs in wire cages. "Anyone here?" Other than the typical back-stage paraphernalia she'd become accustomed to finding at at the rear of every theatre: ladders; ropes coiled and taught; flats and mis-matched chairs and trunks and sand buckets and fire bottles; there were also two large, ornate wardrobes; a large collection of gauzy-sheets hanging from wires; random vases, pictures in frames, and various musical instruments laid out on a table; and what must be, she thought, a magic lantern machine sitting on a tripod stand, surrounded on five sides by mirrors reaching from the floor to above a man's head. "Talbot? er, _Doctor_ Talbot? It's Eve."

"No need to insist upon honorifics among old friends, my dear. Besides, I'm at a loss as to how I should address you; Eve? Miss Brown? Terri? _Traitor?!_ " The Great Talbot; now identified as the _Reverend Doctor Talbot, Divine Adorator_ ; hair uncombed, dressed only in work-pants, a heavy, collarless cotton shirt under a striped vest, and shoes turned in at the heels, emerged from behind a curtain, his hand pulling at a wire that ran over a pulley and disappeared into the shadows.

"I aren't no traitor" Eve stated. "I gave to the war-fund like everybody else and I wrote letters to soldiers I didn't know to make 'em feel like they was appreciated and I even knitted a scarf but the lady at the Red Cross told me maybe my talents was elsewhere. I aren't no traitor."

"Not a traitor to Britain; a traitor to your employer, who took you from the gutter; entrusted you with his dearest secrets; formed you into an invaluable assistant and placed you on stage before hundreds; nay; thousands in theaters from Epsom to Harlow?"

"You mean you teaching me how to run the grift?"

"If you wish to refer to my avocation in its most vulgar manner. But by any phrase, the moment the constabulary appeared and questions were asked, you scampered away like a frightened mouse. Not only was I personally, and deeply hurt; professionally, you left me severely handicapped. I should have known better; first your sister disappears, then you. Is the youth of today completely without principles?!" He dramatically raised his hand to his brow, but forgot he was holding the wire, resulting in a rattling crash somewhere beyond.

"Well I aren't seen Lila neither" Eve began, recalling the notes she and Kate had made. "So you can say she run out on me, too. And the only reason I left was because I was scared; scared the police might take me, if they'd known what I did."

"Did?" Talbot rallied. "Is there something you've kept from me?"

**Chapter 19**

Eve took four indefinite steps toward her previous associate, noticeably looking from side to side; above into the flies and bridges; and behind scenery as if she feared being overheard. "You remember before I worked for you, I was at Silvertown, packing shells?" she said secretly.

"Of course, dreadful incident, that was. You're not going to tell me you caused that disaster, are you?" Talbot tensely quipped. "And there's no need to be so wary; unless you want to include the mice, there's no one else here."

"No, I weren't workin' the day of the explosion. Some friends 'a mine were though...and that was an accident. What I did, I did on purpose."

"I'm at the edge of my chair," he replied, taking a seat on a nearby chest. "Please; continue."

"Well, they had a lunch room where all the girls could eat, long tables set off from the men with cloths and flowers on the table and all that. A tray with at least three different types a food and _two_ pieces a bread and a glass a milk, and cost only two-bob. And sitting right there waiting to be taken, is bottles of vinegar and pickles and pots of mustard, and others of jam."

"Sounds delightful."

"An' since there was so much of it; these bottles were set out so every table had a dozen of 'em; I..." Eve hesitated and dropped her voice; not from guilt but for effect; "...every day I took three or four of those pots a' jams and hid 'em under my apron. Then, when the shift was over and we changed back into our regular clothes, I'd stuff 'em under my jacket or tie 'em from a string hanging around my neck and tucked into my dress when I walked out. When I got back to our building I'd sell 'em for five shillings each. But people were startin' to talk, and that's why I had to leave; not because of the work, or the accident. I thought they'd find out and send me to prison." She sighed deeply as if the burden of a heavy weight had been lifted; but in reality, to signal Kate the first part of the plan had been completed.

Talbot sat for a few moments silently and in thought, then suddenly burst out into a spasm of laughter.

"Little Eve Brown, a war profiteer?" he chuckled. "And all those nights you feigned regret at lifting the contents of a man's wallet, or easing the brooch from a ladies blouse, while you feared arrest for filching a few pots of jam. ' _Oh, how suspicion doth haunt the guilty mind._ ' I must apologize," he ridiculed; "I never knew you were such a fine actress."

"That was takin' things from people who didn't have much; and they coming to see a show only to be robbed. The factory had plenty, it weren't like they was going to miss it. And no one particularly liked it, anyway, every day the same apple n' plum. And I was selling to people who didn't have none - I was helping 'em."

"Ah, ' _Robbing the rich to give to the poor'_ ; the cry of justification from time immemorial."

"So yah, I run away but now I'm back. Maybe all I'm good for is taking advantage a others." Eve pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and raised both hands to her eyes; she wished she could cry on cue, but for now she had to pretend. "I only run because I was panicked, and could feel the prison bars closing in on me" her voice trembled. "I had no where to go and don't know nobody and don't know how to do nothing but running the grift on people that don't know better." She blew her nose and rubbed her eyes for dramatic impact and to briefly chafe them red. "Maybe they deserved it, believing in mind readin' and all that."

"Wherever you've been, you seem to have done well for yourself" Talbot countered. "Your clothing wouldn't be mistaken for the heights of fashion, but you are in a far better condition than I would have expected, having left behind your few belongings a young woman must believe indispensable."

"I had to find something", Eve raised her arms in a gesture of desperation. "These are all things I got from Ladies Aid. When I walked in the door, wearin' only that short silk dress and stockings you had me wear for the show, they thought I was a fallen woman who'd seen the light. They gave me these..." she indicated her frayed, but clean cotton blouse; corduroy skirt from which much of the cording had worn away; plain woolen jacket at least one size too large, with patches at the hem that _almost_ matched the original fabric; out-dated velvet hat and pair of button-up boots most women hadn't worn since before the war. "They told me no girl should live in scholar and debravities, 'n they let me sleep there for a week. Now, that week's over."

"And you expect me to take you back, as if nothing's happened. How did you even find me; for that matter, how did you afford a railway ticket?"

"People talk, and I remembered you saying we was going to Brighton. Those woman at the Aid...I told 'em I had a maiden Aunt living in Worthing, got to live near the sea 'cause of her health, and she said I could go help take of her if I had a train ticket. Wrote a letter and forged some name on it I made up."

"How the crimes do multiply."

"So, what're we running here, the same old mind-reading act?" Eve knitted into the conversation, implying the two were already, again, working together.

"Oh no, far more sophisticated. Soothsaying is of another age; palm-and-tea readings that can be called upon _ad-infinitum_ to any dupe passing by, nothing but variations of the same message as easily forgotten by the mark as it is difficult to result in business repeated. What the modern audience demands is the individual touch; the illusion that no matter how the world changes, there remains a thread of connection between what was, and what is."

Eve drew her face into squints and furrows. "I don't see how that's much different than mind-reading. You working with that partner Lila didn't like?"

"No, no, my dear girl. Allow me to explain."

Kate had hoped; and Eve knew; once Talbot began to boast of his plans, by pride or ego or inspiration little could keep him from exulting in his self-absorbed cleverness.


	11. Part 11

**Chapter 20**

“The real payoff, Eve, is not in telling people what they already know; but in convincing them what they _want_ to believe, is true.”

Talbot stood, straightened his vest as if it were his tuxedo jacket, and began pacing in a small pattern, hands behind his back except when he needed one or both to emphasise a point.

“I'm certain I've mentioned my interest in Spiritualism. At first, I considered the possibilities of forces beyond our understanding that could allow for particularly intense 'emotions' to carry through from one world to the next.” He stopped and faced Eve to underscore is point. “Emotions' and 'feelings', of course, being nothing but functions of the brain; perhaps electrical signals originating from one and receptive to another. Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward a random grouping of mis-matched chairs.

“But Spiritualism; for some Mysticism; claims the mere desire to connect with another realm; to 'pass beyond the void'; is neither a matter of fact nor faith, but the function of an intermediary who provides a bridge between worlds; an impartial conduit between the truths of this world and the dreams of another. Some advocates claim Spiritualism is a science; others that it is a religion; and still others, claim both! And this I where I recognised a fatal flaw of Spiritualism perceived as its strength; the belief, among adherents, that contact between worlds is possible only through those whom they _believe_ are open and skilled at such contact! It's these 'true believers' who have conned themselves and lie ensnared and awaiting someone with the talent and artistry to step in and be paid handsomely for a shoulder to cry onto and a few minutes entertainment.”

Talbot beamed in the brilliance of his plan.

“That's what Lila told me that partner of yours was up to; makin' 'em think they was talking with people that'r dead.”

“No, no. Your sister was mistaken. My former partner was...how should I say...somewhat unbalanced. Or maybe he was a believer caught up in his own beliefs. He never, by so many words, claimed to be one of the so-named 'channelists', but he did profess the ability to 'step outside his mind' and inhabit the minds of others, therefore forming a bridge between people who may, or may not, have wished to be connected. This became such an obsession, he insisted not only was he able to manipulate men's thoughts in ways that would broaden their thinking and open potentials they didn't know they possessed; he became consumed by the magnitude that could be accessed through the manipulation of multiple minds...it became quite discomforting, his talk of controlling others as if they were nothing but pawns in a game of his fabrication. He was so adamant, not only did he swear by these abilities but he thought it his right to exercise these perceived skills by whatever means he saw fit. From the beginning I was against what he was proposing, particularly when I discovered once a persons thoughts have formed, those thoughts do not melt away into time but persist and remain as vital and accessible, even after a body has passed, as are thoughts of the living...but that became too much for Lila, and she became uncomfortable with our arrangement....” he trailed to a mumble.

“And that's what you're doing, here? Looking at the thoughts of dead people?”

“Really Eve, you're much smarter than that. Whatever Edgar claimed is clearly impossible, the rants of someone who should be confined where he can receive help. He and I parted ways and I wasn't too concerned his apparent instability would lead to much harm; if you'd seen him, you know there's _little_ chance of him being a danger to anyone.” Talbot chuckled at a joke Eve didn't understand. “But he did allow me to see the results he alleged could be achieved through simple illusion and suggestion. I realized the _pretension_ of communication with another world would be more than sufficient, particularly when the audience is predisposed to believe that anything; a few largely incomprehensible words; a flickering image; the mention of a favorite book; a remembered photograph; 'manifestations' that could be interpreted as the shadowed presence of the dearly departed when actually a sheet suspended on wires; and the audience will return again and again, paying large amounts for the smallest assurance.”

“And that's what this Edgar showed you?” Eve questioned, tentatively tugging on a wire suspended to her side.

“No, and leave that alone until you know its purpose. Edgar truly believed he held the power to manipulate people's minds. I'm talking about putting on a show.”

“Then what he said; what he _thought_ was real, makin' people think what he wanted them to think and understanding dead people like they was still alive. But all this” she waved her arms around the room, brushing against a fabric-screen, causing it to totter, “is all fake. Just like what we used to do, all made up.”

Talbot rushed to grab the screen before it could fall and break a nearby mirror. “It was real in his mind. The truth of 'Spiritualism', is that's it's only one more way to separate the gullible from their money. What is this interest you have in my former partner?”

“No reason, I guess. Kinda curious, if there was some way to talk to the dead, or really read people's thoughts, or know what's going to happen before it does. Like you did when those copperettes came that one night and started in to questioning us, you knew who they were before they even said anything.”

“Pure speculation.”

“But you said you saw one of them holding a sword and a shield, and she came from far away for a great purpose....”

Talbot turned toward Eve with a harshness she'd seldom seen. “That was nothing but fortunate guesses based upon years of practice. You think I don't know an officer when I see one? The entire concept of 'psychic powers' are only wishes of the unfulfilled or the insane. I refuse to be a part of either.”

“Just askin'. So you think he got the help he needs? Maybe he's in Bethlem now?”

“I wouldn't know. Weeks ago two of his associates appeared at my door, claiming Edgar was setting up shop somewhere in London, encouraging me to join into his inner circle, but I sent them on their way. I doubt he's behind bars, curative or corrective.” He breathed deeply, briefly closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So as you can see, I'm currently working alone; my most recent assistant having disappeared into the night and not yet having found a replacement. The positions are open, if you; or your friend secreted along the wall; hold any interest.”

“My, uh, friend?” Eve stammered.

“The young woman concealing herself behind those un-used props. You two entered together and she's been attempting to remain unseen and quiet as a mouse since then. That wouldn't be your _Aunt_ , I assume?”

“My Aunt? Oh, from Worthing” Eve giggled nervously, backing toward the doorway. “No, I don't think she gets out much. Bad health 'n all. That's just...uh, shy she is.” Eve looked back, waiting for Kate to emerge from the shadows as they had planned, to confront and accuse Talbot of various crimes he'd just admitted; for Kate to warn and shame and make Talbot sorry he'd ever thought Eve's only worth was as a distraction. But Kate remained silent and invisible.

“Well, the positions won't remain empty long. As simple to find attractive girls in Brighton as it is in London. If you or your friend desire the work, return before the end of the week; of course you realise this staging is far more complex than simply stuffing notes into my cuff. Any assistant, even one otherwise experienced, requires training and I can't pay full wages until you've proven you know the act.”

“Yah, that's only fair. I'll, uh, I'll talk to her and we'll think about it and, uh,...be back?” Uncertain and uncomfortable, Eve hurried to the door, with each step growing more angry about why she'd been left alone in a situation she hadn't been all that eager to be part of in the first place, and confused what about their plan she'd misunderstood and done wrong. As the door opened and she and Kate were momentarily outlined against the sunset, Talbot thought while that other girl looked a bit older than Eve and too tall to be an effective front-man, she could be useful operating the rigging or standing-in for the apparition of someones long-lost loved one.

“What's that all about!” Eve blurted the instant the two crossed the street. “You said all I had to do was get 'im to start talking and you'd come out, surprise 'im 'cause he didn't see it coming, and you'd tell 'im were on to 'im. An' there I'm standin' not knowin' what's what and you don't do nothing at all. It...” she began to wilt; “...it weren't nice, Officer Kate.”

“I'm sorry Eve, truly I am; I didn't act as you expected and that put you into a difficult position. But while you two were talking; and you did an excellent job gathering the information we need; I recognised Talbot could be more useful in the future than any advantage we'd gain by being too forceful now.”

“But he admitted he was stealing and cheating and, uh...chumming around with dead people. Those are all crimes, right? An' what do we need him for in the future?”

Sometimes the smaller crimes are worth overlooking if there's suspicion of imminent larger offense. After listening to your conversation, I'm certain there's more to Talbot than he lets on. Besides,” Kate lowered her voice, “I really don't have any authority outside the Metropolitan area.”

“Then what are we here for?!” Eve exclaimed.

“To collect information, which we did. And determine what our next steps should be, which we didn't know until you spoke with Talbot. And,” she smiled; “to visit the beach.”

Eve scuffed her well-worn boot-heel along the pavement. Yah, I guess that'd be allright, goin' to the beach 'n all. Still don't think it was nice a' you to keep me hanging like that, though.”


	12. Part 12

**Chapter 21**

Edgar Cizko was a man of foresight, not of reconsideration; but by necessity far more than preference, he had surrounded himself with men barely-able to conduct a civil conversation, much less contribute to a philosophical discussion. He had secured himself in his studio, his 'assistants' as he generously referred to them, aware once he was behind wood and brick any disturbance would lead to the disappearance of the unfortunate offender. Edgar sat thoughtfully upon a high stool behind a tall table of oak and glass, where a map of London sat illuminated from below. He had sent the men off to do whatever those men did, while he reviewed his plans and assured himself that two nights from now nothing could go wrong and all those who had dismissed; who had mocked; who had laughed; would never laugh again. Not unless he ordered them to.

When the glorious Summer of 1914 came to a crashing halt on that first Tuesday of August, nearly every man in England, believing each individual as strong as the Empire itself, decided it was time to teach the Huns a lesson. The conflict had been building for years: secret treaties, vows of support between Monarchies and Governments, brokered arrangements and veiled threats largely intended as more bluff than swagger. But France believed years ago they had been wronged and Germany felt they had been threatened; or was it the other way around?; and once Austrian Archduke and presumptive heir to the crown Franz Ferdinand and his wife were assassinated, on June 28 by a fanatical teen-age freedom-fighter over indignities imposed by one nationalist group upon another, alliances and ententes arranged for convenience transformed a regional conflict into a world-wide war no one predicted and few wanted.

Thankfully, the war wouldn't last more than a few months; 'Home by Christmas' was the slogan, the Bosch would be put back into their place and England would reign supreme just as it had for nearly two centuries - ignoring that embarrassing American debacle - and France would go on to do whatever France did. Throughout August and into the Autumn volunteers flocked to recruiting stations while there was still time to join into this grand adventure; men of all shapes and sizes queued patiently, some returning day after day believing simply by virtue of their manhood they would be accepted. But requirements in those early months were strict and men suited for most any other job were found by the Army to be lacking in chest size or smiled revealing missing teeth or had less than perfect eyesight. Edgar Cizko was there, along with many others who probably had little chance of passing the physical exam, let alone selected for service; but by luck or inattention of a sergeant, thought their odds as good as any of their chums. Edgar, whom nature had hampered with small and bent body but compensated by a brilliant and strong mind, knew without a miracle he would never see front-line duty; but he wasn't at the recruiting station to carry a rifle; he came offering something no other man could.

"Sorry son, not lookin' at anyone under twenty-one years" the sergeant said, pushing Edgar aside. Years past Edgar had stopped noting the pointless measurements of his body to concentrate on building his brain, but at his tallest he had still been many inches from five feet.

"I'm no child, sergeant" Edgar replied. "I am thirty-two years of age, and in fine physical condition for a man of my stature. I demand to speak with an officer."

"Wha's this?" the solider replied, bending down and surveying the little man from head to toe. "Ain't no circus we're mustering 'ere, chum. Why don' you hurry on home, let us get'n with man's work."

"I will excuse your coarseness due to your ignorance. I assure you I am the equal; no, the superior of any one-hundred men." He turned and spread his arms to symbolically indicate the crowd, but instead looked like a boy wanting a hug.

"HA!" the sergeant yelled, joined by a few dozen of the nearest applicants. "Mus' be some kind'a joke."

" 'Ere now, move along fur real men th'can fight!" came a voice from the back of the queue.

Two Red-caps; military policemen; drifted over from their positions at the enlistment station. "Problem here, Sergeant?"

"Man's 'olding up the line. Takin' a joke too far."

"I assure you this is no joke; in actuality, my actions could end the war weeks, it not months, earlier. I demand to speak with a ranking officer" he announced to the guards.

"He's busy right now, uh, _sir_ " was the reply, both soldiers urging Edgar out of line and away from the crowd by force and implication. "Why don't you try the Ministry?" both laughed as they turned away.

"If necessary, I shall" Edgar announced into a crowd that wasn't listening. "But first", he continued in words not intended for anyone but himself, "I'll provide other officers an opportunity to say he was the man who recruited the man who won the war."

"That's one of'em midgets, jus' like I seen in Barnum's show!"

"Don' need no bleedin' Canary Wharf embarassin' th' King."

"Wall bein' that short, maybe th' Huns won't see'em."

"Can always join the transport corps. Tha' close ta the ground makes it easier to clean up after the 'orses."

Through the Autumn and into the next year; when the War had not ended by Christmas but concerns had turned to whether the War would end at all; Edgar Cizko presented himself at recruiting depots; clashed with Corporals; Sergeants; and Officers; and attempted to arrange for appointments with Brigade; Divisional; and Army Commanders; but the results were always the same: He was ignored; ridiculed; scoffed at; denied and on multiple occasions, threatened by men so inferior, Edgar had become nauseated and disturbed to think he had fallen so low. The dismissals, themselves, had little effect; he'd known of lifetime of rejection and had long ago understood those as base reactions of the insignificant. His greatest sense had been of suffocation and confinement; of being encaged, desperate and claustrophobic, knowing he had the ability to act, to make a difference, but without the means to do so.

 _'A man of my abilities, cast as a pearl among swine'_ he considered one mid-January day, reading in the _Times_ of an attack to the English coast by German airships. _'Perhaps by my own doing; by positioning myself as any other Englishman, eager and proud to serve his country, I've been grouped along with any other Englishman. Only those at the uppermost offices of Government can fully comprehend what I offer. Rather than crawling alongside worms, my place is soaring among eagles.'_

Only by approaching those at the top, Edgar believed, could he gain the results he desired, which were ultimately the best results for all of Britain. And if none in England possessed the intelligence to comprehend his offer, they were not the only combatants in this war; the Germans, he knew, had always been known as a very perceptive and practical people.

**Chapter 22**

"Controlling a mans' mind, ah?" The general, old enough to have served during Victoria's reign, had clearly been promoted and placed so that the status of his position was in direct opposition to his ability to make, or anyone obey, any command decision he might order. In more than thirty months no approach Edgar had tried, even writing directly to the King, had any effect. During a particularly bad year when the war had seemed lost or never-ending; through a tempered 'suggestion' to his MP, who Edgar knew was a believer of Spiritualism and therefore open to such 'suggestions', particularly if cloaked in a way that made him believe he had thought of it himself; Edgar secured a meeting within the Army's higher ranks. Shuffled from one office to the next, this general was not the first person of any authority Edgar would have wished to meet but having now been admitted to the upper floors of the War Ministry, Edgar had no option but to use the opportunity to his advantage.

"Could have used that at Isandlwana, what say? Nasty Blackguard's fighting with spears and shields still managed to get the best of us...took no quarter, massacred the camp to a man and went on to slaughter those poor horses. Ghastly, ghastly time. If it hadn't have been for the brave lads at Rorke's we've have lost the day. A chum of mine, met one another at Sandhurst back in '59, I believe it was..."

"Yes, I'm certain it was unpleasant" Edgar impatiently answered, rejecting any interest to what was past and gone and of no value unless there was benefit in it for himself. "Yet a repetition of similar events I can prevent; one battle is the same as another; the mind of one man, or one group of men, is no different than any other. All can be... _influenced_."

"I see, I see" the general replied, absently stroking his white mutton-chops until Edgar, seeing the old man begin to totter to one side, couldn't tell if he was drifting asleep or unsteady due to the abundance of medals on the left breast of his coat. "Actually?" the officer sprang to life more suddenly than even Edgar's ability to raise the spirits. "Tell a man what to do not by voice, but with mental suggestion? And not one man at a time or ranked in parade, but hundreds, you claim? Wherever they may be? Not some parlour trick, I trust. Not long ago my wife insisted we visit this so-named 'Channelist' who claimed..." he paused with a raspy cough.

"I could demonstrate but my work at times results in permanent damage to the subject; those with weak minds are particularly susceptible" Edgar replied, wondering what effect he would have on a man whose mind was already partially absent. "As for extent, results depend upon the amplification. But given the proper equipment and preparation, I can order the German army to set down its weapons and their commanders to surrender."

"And what was it, again, you say you need to embark on this strategy?"

"The brain patterns I can produce, which I've termed 'mental conveyance'; are amplified when passed though, and among, crystals. The more flawless the crystalline structure, the more powerful and pure is the conveyance. As I've calculated, approximately thirty-nine ounces should be sufficient; fifty to account for any imperfections. No less than 6000 carats and of course adequate electrical resources to power and concentrate the matrix. I may need to borrow the Crown Jewels; temporarily, of course"

"Quite, quite." The general leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on top of his desk. "That is a sacrifice I do not believe His Highness would be willing to make. Certainly it hasn't come to that, my friend; our armies are standing strong, any setbacks have been minor inconveniences with many lessons learned. I understand there's plans for a great push coming up which should settle things our way. No, I don't believe His Highness would support that at all. Jolly ambitious suggestion, though. Good of you to come in." He leaned back in his chair, signaling this meeting had ended.

Edgar started to rise, but paused; he had done everything possible to help win this war in a way only he could, for over two years acting as a gentleman and good Englishman; persistent but undemanding, assured but not aggressive; a faithful citizen of the Empire. And this meeting may be his final chance to win the war for England. He didn't look forward to a long and exhausting journey to Germany and the struggle with language and their heavy foods. He focused his brain upon the general's, forming images of recommendations and strategies, of signatures and approvals. He created impressions of an Empire-wide search for the largest and most perfect gemstones, each willingly relinquished and positioned into a tall, graceful tower connecting his thoughts across the Channel into France; Belgium; Italy; Mesopotamia; and Germany itself, resulting in the surrender, _en masse_ , of enemy soldiers and capitulation of their government. Edgar envisioned this old man again being acknowledged; respected; of glories long lost, returned; and placed these ideas into the general's brain, knowing it would only be an instant before the general, himself, believed he had thought of those things himself.

But the officer sat impatiently, wondering why this little man continued to sit across from him and questioning what more he could do, without being rude, that would encourage him to leave.

"Brilliant day" he offered, glancing back through a window. "Makes a man want to take a stroll through the park."

Edgar redoubled his efforts, placing his fingertips to his temples and with eyes half-shut, focusing his images more sharply, driving his wishes into the old man's mind.

"When I was a lad, used to enjoy flying kites" the general continued. "Harmless distraction, but brought me much joy. Now, aircraft carry men through those same skies. Progress marches on, ah?"

No technique Edgar tried worked as it should. Could this man's brain be so far gone there was nothing left to connect? Was he so feeble and soft, images, suggestions, had no place to lodge? Without a show of appreciation or thanks, Edgar turned and walked out; a man this old and useless was not worthy of his gift. And how dare he call Edgar 'friend'. Edgar was neither the 'friend' of this man; nor of any.

"Odd little chap" the general mumbled to himself, continuing to look out the window while recalling his boyhood. "Takes things far too much to heart. A man reaches the age where he begins to realise all things eventually work out as they should. Comes a time when one simply accepts. Makes life far more pleasant."


	13. Part 13

**Chapter 23**

Without guidance England would likely loose this war; collapse into revolt and madness, as had occurred in Russia and which France stood on the brink; and all of Europe would fall under the influence of Germany and their Austrian partners. To Edgar Cizko, this was eminently clear; that others could not see it was only further evidence of his superiority. Should Germany win this world-wide war, the greatest Allied fear was the sudden appearance of a fleet of Bosch warships docking at English ports and swarms of zeppelins hanging threateningly over London skies; but Edgar knew Germany would certainly _not_ invade and seize the British Isles; the Kaiser and his commanders had interest only in strength, not occupation; and maintaining stability within the intertwined web of royal families would preclude immediate replacement of an established system, the actions of which would result in rebellion and resistance. By failing at this war, England would not immediately be transformed; but a German victory would make life far more difficult and very unpleasant for Englishmen under German rule. The British leadership had demonstrated they had no will nor ability to prevent this; the series of mistakes and oversights which had framed their attempts, from failing to prepare to poorly-planned tactics and strategies to the apparent willingness to sacrifice wave after wave of men for no other reason than to claim a few feet of bloodied progress; was evidence a capable leader must assert himself _by any means necessary_.

Beginning in the Autumn of 1916 no passengers were permitted to cross the Atlantic without Government credentials, and if Edgar had somehow been able to land in France or Denmark or Sweden or another of those unmemorable countries by first traveling to the Americas, north or south; from there booking passage back to Europe; transportation into Germany would have been all but impossible. By November 1918 the war had ended, primarily due to the endless resources of the United States and the failing resources of Germany. So Edgar had not been able to prove his abilities and for the remainder of his life he would have to live with the fact that during the War to End all Wars, a time when men were honored, actions glorified and lives defined; he had contributed nothing. But this was not his fault; he had tried, and been prevented. He had been laughed at and pushed aside and insulted by men who patronized him with names from 'son' to 'friend'; and these men must pay. The Government which floundered when Edgar would have taken action; must take responsibility. Every man who considered himself a 'servant of the people' must personally bear the disappointments Edgar had carried; each person who could have shown him a kindness; provided an opportunity; understood the greatness of the man standing before them, would be made to feel Edgar's frustrations, his pain many times over; among men who should be kneeling at his feet in admiration and awe and because they were so far beneath him they should hold no other place, Edgar vowed; these men would finally recognize and respect his brilliance.

“It's already begun” Edgar commented to himself, folding the newspaper in half and tucking it beside his emptied breakfast dishes. “Demonstrations and disloyalty from soldiers released from service; attempted mutinies by those expected to fulfill their responsibilities; and the Government's official response is to listen, and talk, and appease; the same weak, haphazard response that results in nothing other than more demands and a populace which believes _they_ know best. Bolsheviks and Socialists threaten our very foundation, and the Government replies to these threats as if they were nothing but misbehaving children. During the war, when French and German leadership were faced with similar revolts, failures of those who refused to comply with higher authority; those governments responded with decisive actions; even if that meant executing those who did not follow orders. What a sad world when I am the only person who knows who should, and should not, be killed.”

Edgar knew by his intelligence and abilities and leadership he would have risen to top Governmental position; if he'd only had the chance. He would have become an inspiration to those who lacked his potentials; which was everyone; if only he'd not gone unappreciated and unrecognised. But he could not expect men of such limited intelligence to understand and it was up to him to save England; through controlling their minds and therefore their actions, he would guide them toward the peaceful and purposeful return to stability. Only he could do this, and the responsibility was heavy. The path to redemption is filed with pain and those unable to fulfill the journey, those with weak minds or soft hearts or who dared to oppose; were of little loss. The lion does not regret the death of a flea.

<<<<<< >>>>>>

“You've adjusted the calibrations per my calculations, correct? Any repetition of the statistical abnormalities experienced on our most recent test is unacceptable.”

“I've done my best, sir, but there's certain variables....”

“Any 'variables' should be anticipated and adjusted prior to their appearance,” Edgar warned the man standing beside him who, other than the clipboard he held and white laboratory jacket he wore, was dressed similarly to the other men who attentively adjusted dials and maneuvered levers and scattered forth and back through the vast warehouse space, careful to avoid the towering sculpture of crystal and steel and the machines designed for its use. “That's what I'm paying you for, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir” the man replied. “Not paying that much,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Edgar surged. “You are dissatisfied with your compensation? Have you the intelligence to consider any monetary incentive I provide is nothing more than a side benefit to your actual payment; which is each day you're allowed to continue your worthless life?”

“Ah, no sir. Thankful for the opportunity.”

“As you should be. In fewer than twenty-four hours I embark upon my mission, and to state as simply as possible so that even you may understand, there will be no oversights; mis-steps; fumbles; or slip-ups. Now, I must rest, leaving this,” he gestured from wall to wall, “in your some-what capable hands. Do you believe you can manage for one day without veering too far into negligence?”

“Yes, sir, 'a course.”

“Well,” Edgar sighed; “I have little choice. Do not bother me unless something arises which only I can...no, I am needed for most everything. Do not bother me unless it is a matter of success or failure; and I remind you only one of those outcomes is acceptable.”

**Chapter 24**

Tea was waiting, and both of Etta's guests were late. With half of their little group living at Etta's flat, each time the women wanted to share ideas; discuss suggestions; or determine their next course of action, only Kate and Maravati needed to be contacted: The first by a phone call to her patrol station; the second, whose parents no longer allowed her to speak on the phone to any of 'those women' but just as easily, by a quick note through the mail.

“She's a grown woman, Miss Etta” Eve affirmed. “I should just go over there and bring her back. Lila and me were on our own when we weren't much more than half her age.”

“Do you know where Mira lives, Eve?” Tess asked, reaching out for a pillow. “We wouldn't want to loose you too. Didn't your friend Jack say he'd deliver a message to who-ever we wanted?”

“My friend!” Eve remarked. “Just 'cause he seems to think so don't make it true, Tess. 'Sides, I don't think him or any of his peculiar-named pals are around no more. Last time I think we scared them all off. Somewhere near Woodford.”

“We scared them all the way to Woodford?”

“ _No_ , Tess. That's where Mira lives. I heard her once when she was saying what train she needs to take. And let me get whatever you're reaching for, you know you shouldn't be moving around like that.”

Etta re-positioned the cups and saucers on the serving tray for the third time, hesitant to leave the room as she expected someone to knock at the door at any time. “Woodford's a large area, dear. Best to wait. Didn't you say you wanted nothing else to do with that Jack, or any of his friends?”

“Said if he ever comes around, he'll need watching. So it he does, may as well put him to work.”

Etta was at the entry following the second but before the third soft, but precise tap sounded, opening her door while Kate's hand was still suspended in mid-air. “Thought it best to knock, rather than using the key,” Kate stated, unshaken by Etta's sudden appearance. “Particularly as I'm not alone.”

“Aren't those boys again, is it?” Eve asked, swiveling toward the doorway.

“Naw, jus me, Maddie O'Connel. But every'n jus calls me Maddie.”

“Oh” Eve answered dejectedly.

“Etta, your message said there were important developments we needed to discuss; Maddie had been such a help before, I thought she might be able to help us again. I hope it was alright to bring her?”

“Twas nothin” Maddie replied, looking around the room. “But seem like the company's changed a mite. That one,” she pointed at Tess; “got more bandages now than she did before. 'N weren't there two more? That one with the circle 'a fire, an' another, all wrapped up in robes like she's givin' Sunday Sacrament. What were they, killed? Hope you're not be 'spectin me to jump in 'n do anything dangerous.”

“Miravati should be here any moment; and Diana's left us, I'm afraid” Etta answered.

“Lef' ya all alone, did she? Didn' seem the type. Dead?”

“NO!” Eve announced. “Diana will be back. She just had things she needed to do.”

“No need getting' all huffy, missy” Maddie warned. “The way things is, never know who could be murdered next. You hear about them down 'round Waterloo that walked in front of a trolley like they didn't even see it comin'? An' men that jumped off buildings like there was nothin' to live for, when they was workin' and didn' even have any mouths to feed 'cept their own? Bad things happen'n, an I didn't get to be my age by dallyin' 'round bad things.”

“Eve.”

“What's that, missy?”

“My name's EVE. Not 'missy'.”

“Huh. Look like a missy ta me.”

Before Eve could rouse more steam than the kettle simmering on Etta's stove, three even knocks rasped at the door.

“There she is!” Etta announced joyfully, relieved that Mira had arrived at just the right moment to prevent one of Eve's protestations.

“Miss Etta Candy of 41 Tredegar Road?” the young girl standing at Etta's door enquired “I am Hirava Mukerjea; beside me is my chaperon, Auntie-ji."

<<<<<< >>>>>>

“...and that is why, when Mirava disobeyed Father's instructions, leaving our house without chaperon and traveling on a train while telling no one of her destination and loosing a boot, is why Father will now not allow her to leave our home, at all. Although we were together, as older sister Father holds her responsible.”

“It's not right, a grown woman, having to stay inside just 'cause her father says so. Just not right.”

“Miss Brown, you do not know how Father can be.”

The six women were gathered in Etta's front parlour, sitting where-ever there was room to sit. The seventh; Aunti-ji; stood in the background, nearby Hirava, keeping her constantly in sight.

“It's unfortunate about Mira,” Kate began; “but no matter her age, she must respect authority. As long as she's living under her father's roof, he has the right to tell her what she can, and cannot do. Providing he remains within the law. What were you and she doing that she thought it so important to take such a risk?”

“AH! That's why I am here. Mirava remembered once seeing something very odd near Father's warehouse. His warehouse is in Lambeth; far from our home. She knew if she had asked permission to travel so far, to a place where Father would think she had no reason to be, he would refuse. But she remembered seeing a bright light flash from inside a building not far from Father's warehouse, where there should be no such light. Precious stones, she said, flash and perhaps that building is where the dishonest men who have been robbing women of jewelry, have hidden what they have stolen.”

“Could'a just been someone working” Tess mentioned. “What made her think it was jewels?”

“She didn't know why there was light, but at that time she also saw shadows of men who were not working but standing in place; and also the shadow of a small child.”

“A child, like the one from the alley, that ran away?”

“Yes, Policewoman Sandsmark. And that area of Lambeth, the warehouses near the docks, is where many animals and, I have heard, even people have taken their own lives, may they be forgiven.”

“Oh my” Etta gasped. “You two are fortunate to have gone all that way, and returned, safely. I can understand why your father is upset.”

“But we almost didn't return safely; that's what I must tell you. When Mirava recognised the building she remembered, we found an alleyway that joined onto the back of the building's property, separated only by a fence. Mirava climbed to the top, but was seen by three men; possibly four; who threatened and chased us almost to the railway station. On the property there was nothing but crates and pieces of metal and nothing important; Mirava could not see inside the building, the only windows are at the top of the walls; but looking from one of those windows, she noticed a little man was watching; at first she thought it may have been child, but she is certain, now, it was a little man.”

“Little, like a runt?” Eve suggested.

“A man who has never grown; I think they are called 'dwarves'.”

“Midget, I think, is the proper term, Hirava. At least that's what they're called in shows, and stage.”

“Officer Kate, I've been on stage and I aren't ever seen one” Eve added.

“Ya talkin' about the Doc?” Maddie stated.

“The 'Doc', Maddie?”

“Sure, Kate. I aint' seen'm in must be over a year. Thought he'd gone to greener pastures, so they say. Not that nobody missed 'em, 'p'ticularly. Always claimin' he knows what we was thinkin', 'n that one day he'd be a 'big man' like that was some kind'a joke ; bout his size, ya see. Got mad when anyone laughed, though. Even tried to join the army and never understood why they didn' want 'em. Good riddance, I says.”

“Mr. Holmes was looking for a little man” Tess spoke. “He thinks there's a connection between the stolen jewelry and the deaths and the men we fought in that alley; and that's where Diana and Kate saw the child running away, who just as well might have been a dwarf; or midget, whatever they want to be called. Mr. Holmes didn't say anything about bright lights, or Lambeth, or warehouses.”

“Yeah, Diana saw him first.”

“Has Mr. Homes paid a call, Tess?” Etta questioned, wondering just who had been visiting her house without her knowledge. “Of course, as long as you're resting here you can invite over any guests you'd like; but it would nice to have a bit of advance notice; to prepare, you see.”

“He only come by once, Etta; while you and Eve were out. Only to check on me. I think he still feels responsible for that first time I was in hospital. It's refined, how he tries to help.”

“Does he?” Kate asked. “Help?”

“He does what he can” Tess answered, pulling her blanket more tightly around her and adjusting herself in the chair so she wouldn't have to look at her friends.

Etta jumped when two sharp knocks struck the door. “Who can that be? I wasn't expecting anyone; anyone else.” She looked out the sidelight to find Sherlock Holmes, hat raised in greeting, looking back at her.


	14. Part 14

**Chapter 25**

“Lawrd!” Eve exclaimed. “What's he want now. Can't he just leave us ladies alone?”

“Be polite, Eve. Maybe he has information we can use.” As Holmes entered, Kate moved from her chair, nearest the door, to alongside Eve on the couch, hoping her proximity would counter-balance any outburst.

“Pleasant evening, ladies” Sherlock Holmes announced, removing his hat and with a slight bow towards all in the room. “How fortunate to have found you gathered together. If I had been aware of a meeting....”

“A meeting of _**us**_ ” Eve interrupted. Don't recall anyone asking you.”

“It is rather unexpected, Mr. Holmes, that you've appeared on the same evening each of us has arranged to be together. That's a coincidence far too timely to be mere chance, I'd say” Kate remarked.

“Mr. Holmes,” Etta asked; “you haven't set those boys of yours spying on us again, have you?”

“My dear Miss Candy, it has never been my intention to 'spy' on any of you. However you must agree we are in the midst of a wave of crime, as recent events have established, which may make its presense known in any place, at any time. Each of you,” he gestured with his cane, “are, in your daily activities, spread throughout London; ultimately, however to return here. It takes no one with specific skills in espionage; and through minimal investigation; to determine where, and generally when, each of you can be found. In fact, the predictability of your actions is one reason for my visit.”

“Then you're here by yourself, Mr. Holmes? Them boys aren't around?” Tess questioned.

“Each of my 'Irregulars' has taken on the responsibility of informing me of actions and activities which may be of interest. If they deem the actions of anyone involved in a current case to be of interest, I shall be informed. Boys will be boys.”

“I knew it!” Eve announced. “Spyin' on us like we're a bunch 'a thieves. Bet that Jack's the leader, too. Got those beady eyes. Blue, I think they are.”

“Mr. Holmes,” Kate said in her most official voice, “observing others is no crime, as long as an individual is allowed to go about her daily activities un-molested. However, the law does not look favourably upon the shadowing; snooping; or surveying of citizens by those with ulterior motives. Men have been imprisoned for less.”

“Officer Sandsmark, I fear I have failed to adequately explain my concerns. If any of my agents have, as you say, 'shadowed'; 'snooped'; or 'surveyed'; encroaching upon your privacy or in any way disturbing your daily routine; I sincerely apologise. While your safety is of my upmost consideration, it is not your movements which interest me; but the knowledge others can follow and locate you as easily as I.”

“What're you saying, Mr. Holmes? We're being watched? By more'n those boys 'a yours?”

“Miss Atker, I have no doubt men have been dispatched who, even now, have us under their surveillance. In my investigations I have discovered the same individual who engaged a band of petty-thieves and assailants; some of whom you and your companions assisted in apprehending and removing from our streets; is plotting a far greater crime and because of your interference, would certainly desire to keep informed of your whereabouts. The ultimate purpose of the precious jewels he has been accumulating is not a simple case of piracy; but only the first step toward a plot which may involve all England.”

“This person...is head of a crime syndicate that spreads throughout the country?” Kate gasped.

“Unfortunately, no. I have dealt with such organisations and find they, as a house of cards, are all too easy to topple once a weakness is found. What this man plans is the overthrow of Government and elimination of many of our officials; both elected and hereditary; exclusively by his own hand, if that were possible. I presume the goals of Mr. Edgar Cizko are to subdue the authority of ministry and crown; and from there, drive every person in England; men, women, and children; to their knees.”

“Edgar Cizko? You mean the Doc; Doc Psycho?” Maddie announced. “We was jus' talkin' 'bout 'im. Doc don' 'ave the wherewithall to round upa gang a' alley cats, let alone go up again' th' Govn'ment.”

“Doc; _Doctor_ Psycho? Miss...” Holmes began.

“Maddie O'Connel. But every'n jus calls me Maddie.”

“...Miss Maddie. You are acquainted with the 'Doctor'?”

“Yeah, that's jus' what we' was talkin' about, a'fore you got 'ere. Now Doc, he's alway's talkin'; like 'es a big man, which is ironical when he's only 'bout way high”, Maddie held up one hand not more than four feet off the ground. “Claim'in' 'e can read minds, and knows whats people'r thinkin'. Not right up 'ere, 'e aint.” Maddie pointed to her head. “That's why we call'm Doc Psycho.”

“I should say,” Etta said. “Anyone who believes he can look into the minds of others...into our secret thoughts...can't be sane. It simply can't be done.”

“Sure it can, Miss Etta.” Eve reached forward and took a few biscuits from the tray. “Now, Talbot might'n be the greatest actor, but'e's no slump, neither.”

“Don't talk with your mouth full, dear. It's not ladylike.”

“Pardon. I was sayin' Talbot knows more than he lets on. I've seen him know things about people before I even slipped him the note; and when Kate and I was talking to him, he knew she was there even though she was hiding in the corner, not making no sound like a mouse.”

“I was observing, Eve” Kate excused. “There was no need for me to become involved at that moment.”

“Whichever. Point is, Talbot can read minds, sometimes, 'though he don't want nobody to know it.”

“This 'Talbot',” Holmes questioned; “is someone I should investigate more closely?”

“No need, Mr. Holmes. Eve and I have questioned him; actually, largely Eve; and while he has confessed to knowledge of an individual meeting the description of this Mr. Cizko; Talbot has also stated unequivocally his separation and disinterest in continuing any relationship they may have held.”

“And he's in Brighton, operating a church. Not much trouble he can get into that way.”

“If only locating Edgar Cizko were as simple”, Holmes stated, crossing one ankle over the other and easily leaning one elbow on the stair banister; both because he had not been offered a chair; and that there were no more chairs to be offered. “This afternoon my companions and I diligently searched the area we had been led to believe Mr. Cizko has chosen as his, to use the popular vernacular, 'hideout'. But despite our attempts through the width and breadth of Vauxhall, neither he nor his associates were to found.”

“Mr. Holmes...” Hirava began; “This small man. I believe my sister and I know where he is. We have seen him, in Lambeth.”

“My apologies, Mr. Holmes!” Etta stammered. “This is Hirava Mukerjea; sister of Miravati, you recall? And her chaperon, Aunti-ji. And please, come in, take a chair. I don't know where my mind is today.”

“Miss” Holmes stood,facing Hirava; “Madam” toward Aunti-ji; and returned to his position at the banister.

Aunti-ji said nothing.

“Where, may I ask; and in what situation did you and your sister have this encounter?”

“Miravati remembered once seeing something odd near Father's warehouse, in Lambeth. She thought if she were to locate the small man, of whom you spoke and her friends had seen in the alleyway, whatever harm this man had caused could be stopped. I have told this to Miravati's friends”, she glanced around the room.

“Ah! Very good” Holmes exclaimed, a glimmer in his eye. “You say your father owns a warehouse in the vicinity?”

“Yes, in Vauxhall; Lambeth. Only a street and alleyway from the building where Miravati saw the small man. But the building is in the middle of an open field, surrounded by weeds and trash. There are also guards, with guns.”

“That is of little matter” Holmes stated, physically waving any concern aside. “I have been reliably informed whatever plot Cizko has devised, all preliminaries have been set into place and he is prepared to accomplish his plan within the next few days. Miss, if you would provide the address of your father's business, along with a description of the building where you and your sister had your encounter; perhaps indicating on a map the streets and alleys you have mentioned; it should be possible for me to arrange that Cizko never has the opportunity to fulfill his scheme. The game, I should say, is afoot!”

“There he is talking about 'feet' again, Officer Kate” Eve whispered to her seat-mate.

**Chapter 26**

“Now 'old on a minute there, Mr. Sherlock 'Olmes.” Maddie pushed herself from her chair and took a place toward the front of the room, in sight of all, where she couldn't be ignored. “I know all 'bout you 'n your investigatin', finding crimes where the police don't think ther're none and runnin' round pretendin' to be someone you're not 'n encouragin' little boys to get themself's into all kinda mischief 'n you takin' all th' praise. Even worse when that frien' 'a yours, Mr. Watson, writes it all down makin' every'ne think you does it all yourself. Oh, I know about that Mr. Watson, I do. Mos' everyone in the street knows; 'n don' think we're not 'ppreciative; all the murderers and thieves and crooks and criminals you've put behind bars, keepin' the streets safe for honest workin' people. Never did catch the Ripper, though...but it ain't like these women've been sittin' 'round knittin' socks. Each one of 'ems been investigatin' jus' like you, and some of 'em,” she looked at Tess and Kate; “ 'most got killed for their troubles. You can' be expectin' to waltz in an' think you're getting' all th' credit, jus' cause you're Mr. Sherlock 'Olmes.” Maddie snatched a piece of cake from the tray and returned to her chair.

“She does have a point.” Etta walked to the table and lifted the lid, seeing if her guests needed a fresh pot of tea. “If you remember, it wasn't you who brought to our attention the jewelry thefts...and worse...”

“Yeah, Diana thought of it first.”

“...Diana was the person who recognised the dangers; roused us to action; and led the way. I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, but we did that all ourselves. You had no part.”

“I cannot argue with the truth, Miss Candy. However subduing common thugs and confronting someone with the abilities and intelligence to potentially destroy an entire government, are not the same. Miss Mukerjea has stated Cizko is accompanied by armed guards; and as you know, his men do not hesitate in their actions. Also, while Miss Prince may have been at the forefront of your recent adventure, she is also rather formidable. She is also no longer here.”

“We should tell the police what we've found” Etta suggested. “Not that I'm not up to a bit of fist 'n cuffs, but this does seem rather dangerous.”

“The police cannot investigate a crime until that crime has been committed; what is portrayed in the cinema is not necessarily true to occurrences in real life. Taking our concerns to the police will likely result in suspicion placed upon us, as much as it is the criminal; while allowing the criminal to proceed with his plans. No, I would be negligent to endorse your suggestion, Miss Candy, and I believe Officer Sandsmark will agree.”

“He's probably right, Etta. Without a crime, nothing more would come of it than, possibly, a visit from a detective and the beginnings of a file.”

“Then we'll have to do it ourselves. Don't see why not. We know where he is, and what he's planning, even when he's goin' to do it. If we plan it out right, shouldn't be any more dangerous than stoppin' men in an alley.”

“Miss Atker; ladies; I strongly urge you....”

“Diana said we could. Maybe she wasn't thinking of this, exactly, but she _believes_ in us. It would be wrong not to do something. We just have to think of what she'd do, and do the same thing.”

“Maybe not the _same_ , Eve” Kate added. “Diana realised she made mistakes that put us in danger, and vowed in her next _battle_ , as she would say, to better think through her actions. I don't see why we can't take all she taught us, and improve upon it.”

“Ladies, if you choose to insert yourselves into this situation, I cannot be responsible and in fact will make every attempt....”

“Not a question 'a responsibility, Mr. Holmes” Tess interrupted, turning in her chair to directly face the detective; “it's a matter of doin' the right thing. If what you say is true; this Doc Psycho is plannin' to destroy London, make men and women and children suffer, then the right thing is to stop 'im. I aren't lived my life by lettin' no one, man or otherwise, walk over me, and I aren't startin' now.”

<<<<<< >>>>>>

“If each of you feels similarly”, Holmes announced, looking for signs that one or other of the women had doubts and finding none; “and there is nothing I can say to dissuade you; then my only action is, for the best of all, to assist.”

“That is, if we're asking your help” Eve blurted.

“I do not know if it is proper for me to speak, as I am only here because my sister cannot be; but I know if Miravati had come, she would say that every one must help the other. I only know each of you from this evening and what Maravati has told me; but she believes every woman here is strong and capable; together, there is little you cannot do. She also tells me your other friend, Miss Prince, affirmed her belief in your strengths; and that Miss Prince was great leader.”

“The best.”

“Mr. Holmes,” Kate cleared her throat, “Everyone knows your skills. We would be foolish not to accept your offer of help. Does everyone agree?” She looked from person to person, all who affirmed by nod or word; with the exception of Eve, who said nothing but shook her head 'no'. “But that does not mean we will abandon our rights to follow through with whatever actions we see fit. This was our fight long before it was yours and if you still wish to join us, I think I can speak for everyone by saying the best we can offer is an equal say.”

“Women's voices are only now being heard, Mr. Holmes. The NUWSS hasn't fought this long, not to continue charging ahead!” Etta announced. “Of course, in our ranks there is always room for a sympathetic supporter. Votes for Women!” she roused, pumping her fist into the air.

“If those are your conditions,” Holmes conceded, a subtle smile on his lips that, Eve was certain, she was the only one to notice; “it seems I have little choice, if I; err, _we_ , my apologies, ladies; are to bring these criminals to justice.” Holmes left his place at the stairs and attempted to take a position centre and foremost among his companions. “Now, I propose our first action....”

“What we need ta' do, is this.” Tess struggled from her chair, bracing herself on the small table, and moved only far enough into the room so she could stand supported by the edge of Etta's bay window. “The only way into tha' building, 'corrding to Hirava, is to walk right in. So we will; or at least, some 'a us. Kate, don't the Gover'mnt have maps 'a every building? To use in case a' fires and calamities?”

“Building plans? Yes, I think the fire offices keep something like that.”

“Good. Think you can get a copy a' the one's we need?”

“If I knew which those were.”

“Ladies, any planning must be entered into with most careful consideration. I would suggest....”

“Hirava, you think you can find this building again; the one you and your sister was at; an' show which one it is, on a map, to Kate? The streets and alley's around, pointin' out anything that might be 'a interest?”

“Yes, I will never forget that place.”

“Splendid idea! In fact, one I believe I suggested earlier and a brilliant use of resources and abilities. Once completed....”

“Etta, you still got all those Suffrage banners and such?”

“Why, yes Tess. One never knows when a protestation; um, _assemblage_ ; may be scheduled.”

“Let's say we're scheduling one now; but not a real one, jus' one ta' call attention.”

“Attention and action! Two of the foundation stones upon which the Movement is built. But an assemblage can't be only one person, Tess; that's more of a public nuisance.”

“That'll be your job, Etta. Gatherin' together as many women as possible.”

“Why, yes...I'm not actually a Section Captain, but I can make a few visits...Oh, dear. I wish Mira could attend. She's an inspiration to many of our members.”

“Ladies, your own participation is already cause for concern. To involve others.....”

“Hirava,” Tess continued; “would your father allow Mira to attend a Suffrage meeting? Be with dozens a' other women, and he'd know exactly where she is and what's she's doing?”

“I could ask. You do not know how Father can be. But I will ask.”

Standing behind Hirava, Auntie-ji closed her eyes; slowly nodded 'yes' one time; and said nothing.

“What about me?” Eve pulled herself to attention. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Eve, you have the most difficult job of all.”

“Me?”

“You think you can put on an act again? Like you did when you was workin' Talbot's grift?”

“Lawrd, Tess, I don' want'ta do that any more. I'm not wearin' those scanty clothes, and taking things that don't belong to me.”

“Not the _same_ act, Eve; just the _actin'_ part. Makin' people believe what you want'em to and not what's your real intentions.”

“She was brilliant in Brighton”, Kate offered. “I was very proud.”

“Yeah, that's no problem” Eve answered, smiling at Kate without allowing Kate to see she was smiling. Other than Diana, no one had ever told her they were proud of her. “It'll be a snap. Play-acting's just like pretending.”

“Smart girl. About them guns Mira said she saw. It'll be easy enough to distract them men, but we might have to be a little more forceful if any of'em have guns. Don't make a bit a' difference to me, I'll kick and scratch and even bite if I have to; but without Diana, we'll each have to defend ourselves. Kate, I know you've been trained; and if Mira can come, we know she's not about to let anyone get the best 'a her. But Etta, and Eve, you need to keep a close watch and if things start goin' bad, don't wait for us but take care a' yourselves. Aren't no good bein' a dead hero.”

“I've always said, Tess, that I'm not against a bit of fist 'n cuffs, if the situation requires. The good Lord knows I picked up a few, as he said, 'choice moves' from Captain Trevor. Have no worries about me; and I'll watch after Eve.”

“Sorry I'm not more use. Lila taught me a few punches and where to kick a man where it does the most good, but I've never really been in a fight....”

“That's not your worry, dear.”

“Miss Atker, I am compelled to protest most strongly. What you suggest is no less than a sequence of rash indiscretions. If I may be allowed....”

“I'll get to you in a minute, Mr. Holmes” Tess continued, the women already whispering thoughts and sharing ideas between themselves.

“ 'N the whole point, everyon' knows, is to stop this Doc Psycho. Whatever men he has guardn' him, and whatever he's up to, our business is to grab him before he does it, and then turn 'em over to the police. Bein' a little'n , can't be too hard, once we get inside and get them other men out'a the way.”

“Tess,” Kate interrupted; “I'm glad to hear your final goal is bringing this Cizko character to justice. But you don't plan on placing yourself in the middle of whatever happens, do you? You're still recovering, and this could be far more dangerous than encountering a few ruffians in an alley.”

“I'll be fine. Got more strength than you know. Aren't that right, Mr. Holmes?”

“When necessary, each of us often can draw upon resources otherwise unknown. But concerning your intentions....”

“You and your boys will be leadin' the way, Mr. Holmes, and followin' your plan just like you've laid out, with all the ideas about finding a back entrance and distracin' the men and makin' 'em think we're doing one thing when we're really doing another. Couldn't been half as clever as you if I tried.”

“Yes, well, my thanks. All born of experience” Holmes added, adjusting his sleeve cuffs. “It would be inaccurate to say it was all my doing, however. Only a few details to be settled, and we shall be prepared. I'm relived you've seen it prudent to acquiesce to my greater expertise.”


	15. Part 15

**Chapter 27**

“With the assistance of my 'Irregulars', as Watson has taken to naming them, I believe the field shall be ours, even if upon first appearance the odds should not be in our favour.”

“Do you think it's wise to involve those boys, Mr. Holmes” Etta asked, looking up from her work of paging through lists of NUWSS members for those she could most quickly call.

“Your concern is welcomed, Miss Candy; but unnecessary. The young gentlemen...”

“Gentlemen!” Eve stated.

“...gentlemen of whom you've been made aware, are, how shall I phrase it...acquainted _with the hard knocks of life_. In fact, even as they wait....”

“You 'bout done 'er, Mr. “Olmes?” Without anyone inside noticing, the front door to Etta's flat had been pushed aside, revealing a youth who despite his oiled, combed hair and recently-scrubbed face was dressed in a shirt, coat and jacket that would have been mis-matched if it were possible to determine the difference between the original fabrics and patterns and the variations among the numerous patches and repairs. “Me 'n Big Pockets 'n Little Pockets 'n Stinkeye was wondern' if you want us to stick aroun', or we can go home.”

“Ah, Jack, wasn't it?” Kate asked, standing to insure the weight of her uniform had the most impact. “Staying out of trouble, I trust? Not spying on anyone without their knowledge, I hope?”

“Well, Officer, we was just doing what we was tol'. Mr. 'Olmes 'ere....”

“Officer Sandsmark, I suggested Jack and his friends accompany me this evening”, Holmes replied to the question which was not addressed to him. “In light of the current situation, and for all our safety. One should never underestimate the value; or the dangers; of un-seen eyes.”

“ 'Cept when those eyes are trying to see what they probably shouldn't be”, Eve added.

“Yes, Jack, I believe the ladies and I have all but completed our business; I would regard it an honour to escort any of you back to your homes” he turned to the ladies; “but,” addressing Jack, “you and your four friends can consider your work for the night _fait accompli_ , and we shall meet tomorrow as discussed.”

“Three, Mr. 'Olmes. Arthur's already left.”

<<<<<<>>>>>

Hirava assured her new acquaintances she and Aunti-ji could return home without help; Kate stated she needed to report in at the nearest station, resulting in a brief protest from Maddie who insisted she hadn't done anything wrong and she wasn't going to any police station and if Kate thought otherwise then she wasn't any better than any of those other coppers; to which Kate replied she was unaware of any laws Maddie had broken; anything recently, at least; and Kate promised to see Maddie safely home before Kate even considered approaching a station; and Sherlock Holmes, after confirming none of the other ladies had any plans to leave Etta's house that evening, with a slight bow; tip of his hat; and sentiment “Good evening, ladies. Until the 'morrow”; disappeared into the night.

“I thought he'd never leave”, Etta stated. “And to think, those boys were there all along. Makes me think I can't walk down the street without looking over my shoulder.”

“They shouldn' be bothern' us as much now, Etta” Tess replied. “Holmes has got other things on his mind. Gone for tonight, at least.”

“I should hope so” Etta continued, putting on her coat and hat. “I have many visits to make, and can't be bothered by wondering if I'm being watched.”

“You going out, Miss Etta?”

“Yes, dear. For no more than an hour or so, I'd say. There are at least five women living not three streets away whom I could recruit. Much do to and there's only....how long, Tess, before we must take action?”

“No more than a few days, Etta.”

“Oh dear. Hardly enough time.” Purse in hand and hat on head, attached with a somewhat larger and more formidable than necessary hat pin; Etta glimpsed out her sidelight before continuing.

“All clear?” Tess asked.

“Not anyone I can see. This has become quite a nuisance, I must say. Lock the door, dear.”

As Etta left, Eve closed and double locked the door; then rushed to Tess who was trying, largely with one hand, to adjust her chair so it was more clearly positioned facing the room's entrance, rather than the bay window. “Tess! You know you shouldn't be doing that by yourself. You'll _never_ get well.”

“I'm already much better, Eve. Probably better than anyone thinks.”

“Well if we're goin' do all those things you talked about, you better rest up” Eve suggested, fluffing the pillows on Tess's chair and holding up her blanket in encouragement.

“I suppose restin' while I can isn't such a bad thing. Thank you, Eve” Tess sighed as she sat. “Still, can't be waited on hand 'n foot forever. I know better than t' think everythin's goin' be done for 'er.”

“Tess...” Eve began, arranging magazines and cups and blankets not because they needed arranging but because it gave her an excuse to remain near Tess; “...do you really mean all those things you said? About scratching and biting and doing whatever you have to, to keep a man from hurting you?”

“Sure do, Eve. Might not be ladylike, but I haven't been a 'lady' in a long time. Men, Eve;” she re-positioned a pillow to better support her arm; “wouldn't think twice 'bout doin' the same to us, 'n worse. Not all; men like Mr. Holmes, now he's a gentleman; but you can't be thinkin' every man is a gentleman 'jus cause a' the way he talks or acts or wears fancy clothes. Aren't been many, but mos' 'a the _'gentlemen'_ I've known have been jus' the opposite.”

“You must really hate men.”

“No, but I can see how it might seem that way. Once, I thought most men were good, with only a few bad'ns. But look at mos' any of 'em long enough, and you'll see they all got bad in 'em. If it's the right man, I can love 'im and maybe that will keep the bad parts away; most 'a the time, at least. But there aren't many men like that still around.”

“ _Have_ you loved any good men, Tess? How do you know the difference?”

“The best men, Eve; are those who don' think they are. Now my husband was one a' 'em; one 'a the best. Bertie; but his given name was Albert...”

“I didn't know you were married, Tess!” Eve announced. “Where is he?”

“Gone. Wasn't the War that took 'im, as much as the measures. See, he was one of those objectors; _conchy_ , they'd call 'im; who believed there were smarter ways to solve disputes than fightin'. The first three years, Army mostly left us alone; Bertie was a wagon 'n stable man, never seen anyone like 'im with the horses; just after we were married his uncle leaves him just enough to start up his own little barn and trainin' yard. Wasn't much but it was his. After the war, he'd say, we'd have enough to set up with pastures and building's and move to a nice quiet little village in the countryside. One day, he joked, maybe people would call 'im 'Squire'.” Tess laughed softly, but to Eve the laugh didn't sound very happy. “You sure you want to hear this, Eve? Not really any of your concern.”

“Yes, please. I didn't know any of this about you.”

“Not many do. Then better 'ave a seat.”

“ In '17, we was told every man who's able could be called up any time; even though Bertie'd already been to the boards and told'em he was against the war, and the Army was dependin' on 'im to raise and train the horses they was takin' to France. They didn't make no promises but told us not to worry 'cause they already knew his case and said he was doin' important war work. Not everyone that can train horses, an' he was a damn sight better than most. Then toward the end 'a the year he got the letter an' he went to the board but they said there's nothing to be done but appeal; then his appeal was rejected an' all the men that told us 'not to worry' jus' sorta disappeared. He said he'd take the King's shilling if he didn't have to carry a rifle, and he could work with horses like he'd been, but two months later they told'im he was bein' sent to the infantry and if he didn't fight that'd be a mutiny and he could be hanged. But didn't make no difference; two weeks later he was on the front lines an' I never heard from 'im again.”

“He was killed? And you never knew?”

“I wasn't getting any letters, but that don' mean much; things sometimes got lost, you know. Not 'til the Chaplain came by an' told me Bertie was gone. First I hoped he really was gone - maybe run away, decided his faith was more important than the Army and one day he'd show up. But then, I see the Chaplain means Bertie was dead.”

“I'm sorry, Tess. To be all alone, sudden like that...I know how that is.”

“But I weren't alone, Eve. We had our baby.”

“Baby?!”

“Little more than two years old when Bertie was sent to France. He'd told the Army to send all his pay back home, so we were doing allright, but then when he died all that stopped an' we wasn't getting nothing. I went to the Army offices an' told 'em how difficult it was, how I couldn't get a job with a baby in tow and we was dependin' on Berties pay, an' they said I should be gettin' widows pension but the papers must 'a gotten lost. Then when the 'flu came, little Georgie got sick and I didn't have the money for a doctor so he went to the charity hospital 'cause the Army say's if my husband's not in the Army takin' care 'a my child's my problem. No, I say, Berties not in your bloody army 'cause he's in the ground! Not quite a year ago, Georgie went to be with his father and now I got no one.”

“You have us, Tess.”

“Bless you, darlin' an' don't think I'm not thankful. Hard for a woman on the streets alone - but you know about that” Tess added, patting Eve on the arm. “Never thought much about it, but maybe that's why I don't hold men in high regard - everyone of those who'd say they'd stand by us, that there was no cause for worry, that they'd find a way to make things right an' after wouldn't even give us a minute a' their time - they was all men. An' the officers an' the Government that decided to take every man away from his family no matter how much important work he was doin' at home - they was all men. The War even started because 'a men. They all took what they could, no matter how much hell that's made for those left behind.”

“Tess, I don't think Etta, or Kate, or Diana when she comes back, will ever let us be alone again. Maybe everything's happened so we could find each other, so we can be together now.”

“That's what a sweet young girl would think, Eve. Hope it's a long, long time before you have to think any different. Used to call me 'Therese', Bertie did. Now, I won't bear anyone callin' me that. I'm not the same as I was.”

Before Eve could reply; although she couldn't think of just what she could have said that would help Tess feel better; two quick but uncertain knocks sounded at the door.

“Now what?” Eve complained. “Did Miss Etta forget her key?”

“Look out the window, Eve. Can't be taking chances.”

But before Tess's warning registered in her ears, Eve stormed to the door, pulled back the locks and tore it open. “Yes!?!”

“Oh, ah, say, good even' Toots."

"Gawd. And stop calling me 'toots'."

**Chapter 28**

“You spyin' on us again?” Eve accused, looking past Jack's shoulders for Big Pockets or Little Pockets or Empty Pockets or whatever hooey names those boys called themselves.

“Naw. Mr. 'Olmes says everythin' 'ere's OK for the night 'nd we can go 'ome. But ther's somethin' I gotta do, so I hung 'round the side 'till the coast was clear. 'An I gotta call you Toots. Don' know yer name.”

“My name's _Eve_. And if you call me 'toot's one more time I've half a mind to slap you on your left cheek so hard you'll feel it on your right.”

"No need gettin' violent, Evie. Ya might only got half a mind, but ya got plenty a' everythin' else. Talkin' like that, goin' scare off all us men, that way.”

“Aughh! That's three black marks against you already and you're not even trying. First off, you're scarcely a man and whenever you claim you are, I gotta wonder who you're talking about; second, my name is EVE, not 'Evie'; and third, if I was looking to scare away anyone, you'd be first on the list."

“So I'm the first one ya' think of? That's encouragin'.”

“The only encouragement I'd give you is to take a long walk off a short pier. Now what do you want?”

“What is it, Eve?” Tess called.

“It's only Jack; one of Mr. Holmes _spys_.”

“What's he want?”

“To badger us.”

“That can't be all. Bring him in.”

“Tess says you can come in.”

“Thank ya, much.” Jack stepped inside just far enough to clear the door, which Eve slammed behind him; and glanced uncomfortably around the room, his hands behind his back.

“Ma'am” he said, addressing Tess.

“Jack, is it? What do you need?”

“I come to talk with Evie.”

“ _Evie_?” Tess answered. “Well, don't let me stop you. You allright, _'Evie'_?”

“Eve. If there's anything go wrong, I'll yell. Might even fight, just the way we was talkin' Tess.”

“I only come for a minute, don' wanna cause no problems” Jack broke in, not understanding how his social call had resulted in so much talk about fighting and injuries. “I was passin' by the druggist earlier, Evie, nd' seein' what days comin' up...”

“Eve.”

“Is there anyplace we can talk, that's, not so open?” Jack looked around the room, his eyes falling on Tess more than once.

“We can go in the kitchen. That's still close enough for Tess to be there in an instant, if needs be” Eve warned.

The two walked into the kitchen, each taking a place to either side of a low sideboard.

“You were saying?”

<<<<<<>>>>>>

Tess wasn't particularly sleepy, but with nothing else to do she sat quietly, eyes closed, until a short series of sharp, slight taps brought her to attention. Outside the bay window, Sherlock Holmes waited, the metal tip of his walking stick poised near the glass and once he saw he'd gained Tess's attention, he gestured toward the front door. Tess stood and eased toward the entrance to find Holmes had already entered, the door unlocked.

“Miss Atker; please do not trouble yourself. I have found my own way.”

“So I see. I thought you'd left?”

“Only a small misdirection on my part. I was hoping for an opportunity to speak with you unattended, and thanks to Miss Candy's own slight fiction; and that Miss Brown is currently occupied; it seems that opportunity has arrived.”

“You send that boy to put off Eve? Using them boys aren't right, Mr. 'Olmes.”

“I assure you I had no knowledge of Jack's intentions, nor that he had even remained in the vicinity. On that, I give you my word” Holmes continued, momentarily lowering his head and placing his right hand to his heart. “While I cannot fathom Jacks presence, I have come to check on your recovery. Are you doing well, Miss Atker?”

“Well as can be expected. Have to see what the next day or so brings.”

“Assuredly. I trust the support I provided previously was of benefit?”

“Seemed to do me a world a' good. Never would'a thought.”

“Gratifying to hear. Would an additional dose provide even more relief?”

“Don' know, Mr. 'Olmes. Might be dangerous.”

“As I've indicated, anything I offer is identical to what I myself would use; processed to my own specifications and of far greater quality as could be found under less rarified conditions. I have my kit with me now, if you believe it could be of any service.”

“Does seem to help. Maybe just a bit more, Mr. 'Olmes.”

Sherlock Holmes removed the small leather box from an inside jacket pocket; removed the syringe, a needle and one of the small glass vials; and asked that Tess extend her arm. “It is vital you seek out this assistance from no one but myself, Miss Atker” Holmes warned as he prepared the injection. “Uncontrolled; or in any other solution; could prove dangerous, indeed.”

<<<<<<>>>>>>

“...I was sayin' , Evie, I was passin' by a store, saw what's in the window and thought maybe it's somethin' you'd like...”

“Eve. So you walked in and copped it? And now you're turning it over to me so I'm an accessory to the crime?”

“No, not that a'tall. Paid with my own money. The boys said I could'a slipped it in my coat and no'on been the wiser but...I wanted t' pay for it myself.”

“Pay? You must coming down with a fever.”

“Naw, it's not that, Evie....”

“Eve.”

“...it's jus'...well, I don' mean nothin' by it....” he cautiously extended his right hand which held a small, violet tinted envelope. “This's for you. Seein' what day's comin' up.”

Eve took the offering; which had been addressed to her not by name, but only marked ' _To my friend?_ '; and slipped out a card embossed with an illustration of purple morning glories framing an inscription:

_'St. Valentine Greeting'_

_'Although 'tis pierced by Cupid's dart;_

_I'm offering you a pretty good heart.'_

Eve turned it to the back; which was blank; and re-read the front while Jack stood, uncertain if he should stay or attempt as fast a get-away as possible.

“What's this about”? Eve asked with slightly less annoyance in her voice.

“Nothin. Jus' thought you might like it.”

“It's pretty. I like the flowers.” She looked at it again, and felt the embossing under her fingers. “But I don't know why you'd give it to me.”

“Jus' like it says. 'Bout Valentine's and cupid 'n hearts 'nd friends 'n all. Don' mean nothin' by it.” Sensing relaxation in his companion, Jack leaned in, as if to kiss Eve on the cheek, and was welcomed by a punch in the nose.

“Gawd!”

“What's that for, Evie!?”

“EVE. For thinking a card with a sappy saying would grant you any liberties” Eve replied, carefully tucking the card into a little pocket at the waist of her skirt. “Lila and me don't live on the streets without learning how to take care 'a ourselves, let me tell you. Now if there's no other reason you're here, I'd thank you to leave.”

“Jus' tryin' to be friendly, Evie” Jack mumbled, wiping a drop of blood from beneath his nose. “Seein' what day's comin' up.” Eve grabbed a kitchen rag and tossed it in his general direction, waiting only a moment for Jack to wipe his face before she escorted him out of the kitchen; to the front door; and made certain he had almost reached the street before locking the door twice after him. Eve looked over to Tess, who seemed to have fallen asleep despite the commotion; took the little card out of her pocket; and read it again. She had never before been given a Valentine's Day card by anyone.

Jack drifted past the fence and down the street, wondering what he'd done wrong and what, if anything, he could do to make it right. He'd never been struck by a girl before; and to his surprise, he didn't mind one bit.


	16. Part 16

**Chapter 29**

The train from Woodford arrived at Vauxhall station just as the tram from London City Centre, across the Thames, continued beneath the railway tracks and made its way along South Lambeth Road, conveniently stopping as scheduled near the corner of Wyvil Road and unsurprisingly, Wyvil Primary School, letting out five passengers and taking on three, before it continued southward.

At the alms houses established nearly three centuries before, a weary, aged ship's captain who had in his recent years longed for the sea more than he had sailed upon her, stood gazing through the fence, scanning the horizon at South by South-West, apparently watching for the sunset. He scratched his beard; stamped his feet to keep them warm; and pulled a pipe with an oddly shaped stem from his pocket, neither emptying it of ashes nor filling it with tobacco, but placed it at the corner of his mouth, almost more for effect than purpose.

Brought on that morning only because of an urgent, unexpected order; the day labourer wiped his brow and headed toward the gate, pulling his watch from its pocket to confirm he'd fulfilled his full nine hours and no one from the timber yard would question his leaving. He pulled the belt of his coat as tightly as possible, not because it was particularly cold; and buckled it at the furthest hole, neither because of too many pints nor too large a lunch. If not secured, the tools and instruments in his coat pockets would conspicuously rattle and clatter, and he'd been strongly advised any undue interest as to why a common hired-man was carrying complex engineering equipment, could lead to needless questioning and an unwarranted loss of time.

Five boys had spent the past hour or more loafing about Vauxhall Park and now, apparently tiring of the frequent cloudbursts and nearly-constant wind, rambled past the band-stand and the bowling green and the tennis courts towards the warehouse district. Women pushing prams and keeping track of their own children suspected on a Thursday afternoon each of these boys should be in school; but none said anything as each woman had concerns of her own.

The sergeant wasn't certain how; although he did think it was rather odd; that due to a paper-work mix-up or temporary assignment or rumours of a Suffragette Rally and Headquarters probably wanting as many members of the Women's Police on the scene as possible; a female officer had been assigned to his station. Yet officer Kate Sandsmark was completing her patrol in vicinity of the Tate South Lambeth Library, which while only thirty years old had by modern standards already begun to be considered dated and Victorian and fussy.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

“How're you feeling, Tess?” Eve asked as she awkwardly leaned to grab the sign-board she'd dropped on the steps; tried to keep her coat folded over her arm; held tightly to a stack of handbills; and helped Tess from the tram, careful to be gentle with her elbow which only that morning she had freed from its sling. The two walked toward the school and stood beside one of its gates, as if waiting.

“Strong as an ox,” Tess replied. “Like I said, probably healin' faster than any of you think. Don't know if it's the rest, or the good food, or all the attention, or somethin'. Probably getting up and making myself useful, that's the best medicine a' all.”

“Miss Etta wasn't too happy when you went out on a walk. And I was worried; I think Miss Etta was, too.”

“Needed to get out, do it on my own. If I'd said anything, someone would have wanted to come with me. And everything worked out fine, got back none the worse for wear. Better, probably.”

“Tess, whatever happens, don't go getting involved with anything dangerous just 'cause you think you need to. Diana said once that sometimes it's just as brave to run away, as it is to fight.”

“I'll do my part, don' you worry about that. You're the one that needs to be careful; don' know what these men are able, and don' think trippin' one of 'em will do the job, this time. Diana's smart; if she says there's no disgrace in running, then run, Eve. Don't look back, just run and don' think twice and don' feel bad about it; we all know what we're into, so there's no use feelin' guilty, if it all don't work out.”

“Oh, I never feel guilty. Not saying that sometimes I do things maybe I shouldn't, and if it's really bad, I usually apologise and try to make it right; but years ago I was thinking of it, and thought what good does it to, feeling guilty and all? Just makes you miserable, and there's probably nothing you can do about it anyway, other than not doin' what you did in the first place. I mean, I'm not saying we should all do whatever we want and then say 'well, it don't matter cause I'll just do something else to make up for it'; but most things, Tess, I think happen for a reason. We might not understand what that is, but as long as we keep doing the best we can, we gotta believe it'll all work out.”

“Then you don't have any regrets; anything you'd change?”

“Oh, tons. But I can't change any of 'em. Just have to think 'well, I don't like the way that turned out, but next time I'll know better'. Can't changed what's happened, Tess, so I just gotta set it aside and try to do better next time. It's this dress.”

“The dress is makin' you want to do better next time?”

“ _No_ , Tess. The dress is why I can't hold onto the signboard and the handbills and try to walk and breathe at the same time. Just look at it. First I thought it was the coat that was making everything bulky and hard to handle, but when I took it off the dress gets in the way of most everything. It's too wide in the skirt and too puffy in the sleeves and Miss Etta said I had to wear a corset. First I'm dressed like a bad girl and wearin' too little; now I'm wearing too much. Almost tore the sash, trying to fit the sign in the seat next to me.

“Shouldn't be much longer, Eve. Those ladies should be here 'most any minute.”

Almost on cue, the combined voices of women, accompanied by the measured cadence of unrelenting progress, approached from the South; voices singing in unison, calm and determined; from curb to curb an unbroken line of white and purple and green advanced, resolute; steadfast; and together, banners of the NUWSS and WPSU defiantly carried side by side.

_'_ ... _Wide blows our banner, and hope is waking._  
_Song with its story, dreams with their glory_  
_Lo! they call, and glad is their word!_  
_Loud and louder it swells,_  
_Thunder of freedom, the voice of the Lord!'..._

“Gawd, Tess. There must be hundreds of 'em! I didn't know Miss Etta knew so many people.”

“Maybe not that many, Eve, but more than I'd hoped. There's Etta at the front. Now we just join in; no one will notice two more.”

_'...First in the battle to strive and sorrow!_  
_Scorned, spurned—nought have ye cared,_  
_Raising your eyes to a wider morrow,_  
_Ways that are weary, days that are dreary,_  
_Toil and pain by faith ye have borne;_  
_Hail, hail—victors ye stand,_  
_Wearing the wreath that the brave have worn!...'_

“When we're close enough, Etta will gather the women in front of the building Hirava showed us. I'll be with you, but like we planned, a lot of it's up to you, Eve. Get ready now, it shouldn't be far.”

_“..._ _Life, strife—those two are one,_  
_Naught can ye win but by faith and daring._  
_On, on—that ye have done_  
_But for the work of today preparing._  
_Firm in reliance, laugh a defiance,_  
_Laugh in hope, for sure is the end;_  
_March, march—many as one,_  
_Shoulder to shoulder and friend to friend.”_

_< <<<<<>>>>>>_

Eve gathered her courage and walked up the rough brick pathway to the entrance of an equally rough concrete and cut-stone building, generally unnoticeable in the midst of other other unnoticeable warehouses, storehouses, and factory-works which crowded the area; if not for the small, gilt lettering applied to the door:

**_Hypnalis Import Valuation & Export_ **

She tucked the staff of her sign-board - _'Women's Rights are NOT a Crime' -_ into the crook of her left arm, her hand clasped around a sheaf of handbills; turned her head to see Tess slightly behind her, as she had promised; looking slightly distracted and tired and maybe a little feverish, but that was because she was still weak and recovering. In the street the crowd of Suffragettes and Suffragists, often at odds with one another but this afternoon marching together, banners and placards and flags held high, continued their anthem with hummed melody rather than words; and at the edge of the sidewalk, Etta stood at the ready, dressed in white from shoes to hat as all the others; her 'VOTES for WOMEN!' banner draped across her chest. Eve took a deep breath; whispered something only she would hear; and pounded definitively on the door with her right fist.

**Chapter 30**

“Yeah?” a man with undefined clothing and matching face sneered past the door, opened only enough to be scornful. “We don' wan'none. This's private property. Best ya be goin'.” He started to push the door closed but Eve had already jammed her sign-board, firmly attached to a length of lumber previously destined to become a shovel handle, between the door and its frame.

“And that's why we march today!” Eve announced, hardly knowing where her volume, or her strength, had come. “Because men DO NOT WANT women to be heard!'

“None'a our doin'. Now get, before I gotta call me pals. Some of'em eren't as understandin' as me” the nameless man huffed, struggling to free the stake from the entry. 

“But we'll not be ignored! We've got information this business is nothing but a front concealing illegal trade in liquor that's given out, for free, only to men who oppose the Cause. And we have words for your pals, as well!” Eve continued, thrusting her handfull of papers into the man's face, who stepped backward into three men who had joined him; two similarly unremarkable while the third wore a white laboratory coat. “Votes for Women!” Eve added, because she'd heard Etta say the same thing.

“Well”, Lab-coat spoke, slowly surveying Eve from head to foot, paying particular attention to her chest and hips although in her abundant dress there was little to see. “Wouldn't mind making friends with some'a you women. Wouldn't mind a bit.” He sprang suddenly at Eve, grabbing her by one arm, and pulled her through the doorway. Tess threw her body against the door, from which the other men had removed the sign-post and were forcing closed; when Etta yelled out 'Huzzah', the arranged signal that the women should take action, and she, followed by more than two dozen others, rushed the entry while the remaining Suffragettes removed rocks and bricks from hidden pockets and began aiming them, with surprising accuracy, at the building's windows; while the Suffergists formed a barrier around the entrance, in some places three and four individuals deep, blocking police or anyone else from interfering; while preventing anyone inside, from slipping away. 

<<<<<<>>>>>>

“Tha' Copperette tol' us the cellar window's right down near the street, in some kinda crypt” Jack reminded his friends, Big Pockets and Little Pockets and Stinkeye and Arthur. “All we gotta do is force it open 'nd she don't think there'd be anybody whos spectin' us.”

“Crypt, Jack? Like when there's dead people? I don' know 'bout breaking inta any crypts.”

“Naw, Pockets, not real live dead bodies. That's jus' wha; they call it, a crypt. Jus' means a hole next to a buildin'.”

“Yeah, like Stinks says. A hole with a winder inside. 'Nd if theres anybody, we all got what we need. You still got your baseball bat, Arthur?”, Jack motioned to a boy scarcely visible in the shadows. “Migh' be needin' it.”

“Yea I eren't goin' in noplace I don' know with't somethin'.”

“Ri'ovr'ere, Jack” called an overcoat at least two sizes too large, which made the boy inside appear even smaller. “Thi'is gottabeit.” He pointed the iron bar he was carrying toward a window-well just below street level, the window itself cloaked in soot and dirt and the well partially-filled with mouldy leaves and wastepaper.

“Lil's found it, Jack”, Arthur called out. “Wan' me ta bash it in?”

“Naw, Mr. Holmes says we gotta be quiet-like. Maybe jus' throw a rock through it.”

<<<<<<>>>>>>

“Beggin' yer pardon, lad. Got a light?”

The day worker was waiting, as he'd been instructed, at the corner of a small residential street that edged against the timber yard. The meeting that been been scheduled was with a man distinguished and easily recognisable; the man who hobbled across Fentimin Road, nearly causing two coaches to swerve into each other; was not.

“Gettin' so I'd forget me own shoes if I dind't set'em side me bed. One time, sailin' back to Plymouth; jus' come from Mumbai, ya see, loaded mostly with cottons and silks; got all the way to Alexandria afore I realized we'd left an engineering mate back at port. Now, in those days,....”

“Sorry, I don't smoke. And I'm to meet a friend” the labourer stated, sliding away. Hatherley, identifiable by the name embossed on his small leather carry-all; possibly a lunch pail; knew what he'd agreed to do was daring; even dangerous; but he believed he owed a debt and had no time to waste with a codgerly ex-sailor who had nothing to do but re-live days gone-by.

“Seems that's what's the world's come to, men who don't even now the pleasures of fillin' their own pipe. Trick is, the tobacco's need to be compacted down, but still keepin' it loose enough to burn. Man could make a fortune inventin' some kinda hydraulic press, do the work for 'im.”

“What's that?” Hatherley flinched. “An hydraulic press?”

“Jes an idea, ya see. It is common knowledge when tobacco is compressed too solidly, it ultimately fails to ignite. Elementary.”

“Mr. Holmes?”

“Ah, Victor; I believe there are many unseen eyes searching for the presence of Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective; but none who would express an interest in one you may consider a codgerly ex-sailor reflecting upon former adventures. Come; the doorway should be just past this alleyway and between these two buildings. Corresponding to our map, it has been partially blocked by recent construction and therefore, in a state of disuse.”

“I have the tools you suggested, Mr. Holmes; but I don't have any way to open a locked door. I'm an engineer, not a locksmith.”

“That is of no concern” Holmes replied, placing the pipe with an oddly-shaped stem into one pocket and removing a keychain from another.

“Oh, you have the key.”

“Not quite; burglars tools are far more advantageous.”


	17. Part 17

**Chapter 31** ****

Tess had felt strong enough to hold the door open against ten men or more, but after only a few seconds braced against only two, was suddenly drained and unsteady and unaccountably; intensely contented. She hadn't been looking forward to another fight, where she or any of her friends could be injured or killed; and while she knew this, at the same time she couldn't shake the feeling it was all a dream, and whatever happened was nothing other than play-acting. Tess had always wanted to be an actress, and would have sat, outside the door, abstract thoughts of play-acting and illusion floating through her mind, if two dozen or more women, Etta in the lead, had not stormed the entrance pushing Tess inside.

“Ladies, rouse yourself to action!” Etta cried. “Remember the Cause!” The Suffragettes, driven forward by intent over plan, surged through the doorway with no clear goal in mind as none of the women had ever experienced what they, once inside, witnessed. Rather than a work-house stacked with illegal and immoral opiates; or the smell of distilling alcohol surrounded by casks of spirits; or even, most dreadful of all, row upon row of young girls forced to slave under deplorable conditions even as, many of the women feared, the girls had been enchained into a fate far more horrible; what they found was a single, open space with only irregularly-placed workbenches and tables; tool-racks and wooden crates holding un-identifiable equipment; and a single, small glass-enclosed cabin set commandingly onto the bare cement floor. What defined the space; other than numerous men who seemed to appear from no-where to converge on the female intruders; was a single, metallic tower; a spiral formed of dozens of polished metal rods reaching nearly thirty feet, to the top of what had been a vast warehouse. Attached to the form were hundreds of gemstones, brilliantly sparkling in the sunlight that flowed through the building's row of roof-line windows and the skylight centered above the mechanism; a gleaming form dazzling as any modern sculpture yet a piece of intricate machinery. As the women watched, the structure began to rotate and as the rotations increased, the device was bathed in an electrical glow that curved among the rounded forms until it reached the top, concentrated into a ray that now had only begun to appear, but with every moment grew more intense.

“ 'Ere, men” one of the men, uniformed in overalls, shirt, and flat cap yelled to his companions who each looked much the same; “Bossman's started 'er up. Get rid of the women; get rid of 'em anyway ya' can.”

The Suffragettes, bewildered and momentarily disorientated, looked around them in awe and confusion; with no illegal liquor to destroy or half-conscious coke-fiends to admonish or girls held in unimaginable conditions to free, they didn't know what to do.

“Ladies!” Etta declared, pointing toward a hallway which edged along a back wall. “There - a white slaver attempting to drag away one of our own!” Although Eve struggled and was trying her best to fight back, the man who had grabbed her, apparent from the others only by his white lab coat, had pulled her across the warehouse floor and now almost reached his exit. With only this small direction, a group of the Suffragettes ran forward; two of them dropping their banner-posts along the way; awhile the remainder, requiring only the slightest encouragement, set off in twos and threes against each man, easily exceeding them in number if not in strength. The two women who had _not_ abandoned their banner posts now put them to good use as they reached the man dragging Eve, and even though he turned and held her in front of him as a shield, pummeled him on the head and back while their two companions tried to pull Eve from his grasp. To protect himself from the bashing he was receiving; no one strike too severe but the total debilitating; he let go of his prisoner with one hand, which gave Eve opportunity to twist and bite, as hard as she could, the wrist that still held her. “Oy!” the man yelled, as Eve had drawn blood. “You damn females! You'll be paying your price, you will” he yelled, stumble-running as fast as he could down the hallway and into the darkness. Four suffragettes started to follow, but turned when they realised their attention was better served elsewhere.

“Eve!” Kate Sandsmark announced, drawing herself from the masses of men and women struggling throughout the cavernous space and from where she had just dazed a man with a well-placed jab to his throat; “Are you alright?” She took the girl by the arms and examined her from head to foot. “Where's Tess; she was supposed to be watching you.”

“I don't know, Kate” Eve gasped, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “We were at the door, then she just sorta' slumped and was gone. I knew Miss Etta and her friends were near-by, so I wasn't afraid. Have you been here all this time? I think I might of ripped the dress, though.” She looked down at one of the side seams which had torn while she was struggling; “Sorry. Was a nice dress, otherwise. I'm fine.”

“A torn dress is nothing, Eve. We have a find a safe place for you; and somewhere, find Tess. I thought this might be too difficult for her” Kate added, looking around the room and in time to pull Eve from the path of a man reeling backward, attempting to fight off a Suffragette who had wrapped her 'Votes for Women' sash around his neck while Etta seemed to have disabled him with a series of well-placed punches to the torso and face; and had only seconds earlier exhibited quite an impressive jab and upper-cut.

“Miss Etta!” Eve cried.

“Sorry you had to see that, dear. You know Captain Trevor insisted I learn in case I should ever find myself accosted.”

“No, Miss Etta; it was wonderful!”

“Kate, have you seen that small man Hirava and Maddie and Mr. Holmes had described? Our entire adventure will be for nothing unless we stop whatever it is Mr. Holmes believes he's up to. For that matter, have you seen Mr. Holmes?”

One of the indistinct men, panic and fury in his eyes, ran toward the three, and Kate pulled Eve to the side while Etta took a defensive stance; but before the man could come within ten feet a Suffragette kicked him strongly in the knees, forcing him to the ground where a second woman of somewhat larger stature immediately took him by one arm, pulling it underneath his body, flipping him on his back; and sat on his chest, pounding his head against the floor.

“Ju-jitsu, their way of fighting in the East, I think” Etta announced. “Many of the women in the WSPU have been trained. Miss Pankhurst disagrees, but it does have its place.”

'Yes, Etta. The police are aware of the potential dangers involved when confronting a trained Suffragette. Until I found Eve, I hadn't seen Mr. Holmes or anyone. What we've come here do to, we must do it soon; I'm sure the station has despatched officers with orders to arrest anyone who stands in their way. Where's Tess?”

“You should go have a look at Tess” Etta replied; “she's...she needs someone.”

**Chapter 32**

Edgar Cizko; who among the many names he had been labeled in his life found 'Dr. Psycho' the least objectionable and perhaps the most evocative; had immediately raced to the small control booth set alongside his Consciousness Amplifying Tower, uncertain if the women who had appeared from no-where to tramp upon _his_ property were attempting to incite the type of demonstration their type were known to inflame; or if they should be despised simply for the provocation of being women. But no one, female or not, would prevent him from fulfilling his plan; his right; his _destiny_ ; of addressing the wrongs he had endured and demonstrating, at once and toward all, his superiority. He had planed a more opportune moment to initiate the process that would result in all of London bowing to his wishes; and, if he wished, would eventually extend throughout England; but as everything had been tested and readied, today would have to do. When he had finished, he knew, the day and time would make little difference.

Protected by brass and bullet-proof glass, Edgar adjusted levers, turned dials, and maneuvered switches as the glittering tower began to smoothly rotate, its only sound a gentle hum of electricity and from the basement the steady throb of multiple dynamos seemingly drawing power from the air. Beyond the safety of his booth the only sounds were of men cussing and women yelling and the occasional scream of one inflicting pain on the other; hardly anything for Dr Psycho to be concerned with, even as a woman's body crashed onto the booth but was deflected away at an angle, leaving nothing but smeared blood.

As he locked himself into his cabin and energised the Amplifier, Dr. Psycho thought he saw the forms of two men emerging from the doorway connecting with a hallway that led to storage space for useless equipment and the sleeping quarters of his lackeys. The shadows appeared to be rushing toward the base of his tower; but to that were so, he paid little attention; if those were not two of his own men abandoning their jobs for their own safety, the shadows must have been figments of his own imagination. Certainly no man would employ Suffragettes to fight his battles; and if there were a man so cunning to convince women they were the equal of men, he would be either a genius or a fool.

As the Tower increased in speed and intensity, Dr. Psycho closed his eyes, two fingers of one hand resting on his forehead, focusing his intentions inward to the depths of perception he could draw from at any time; and simultaneously outward toward the expanse of individual minds each concealing their own secrets and regrets and fears, his abilities to see into other's thoughts enhanced by the clarity of the crystals which formed a web of scarcely-visible rays around the tower which Edgar drew from, enhancing his powers; even as he fed his will into the stream, magnifying his wishes so they would effect not only the one or two people he most concentrated on; but anyone within the field of the Consciousness Amplifier.

_< <<<<<>>>>>>_

“ “Round the corner, Hatherley. I believe I've located the juncture connecting control-box to tower.”

Victor Hatherley knelt at the small cabinet set against the wall between the brilliantly-glistening metal sculpture which had begun to rotate; and the glass-enclosed control booth occupied by a single, smallish man. Largely unnoticeable among other small cabinets set against the same wall, only the air vents cut into the front panel distinguished this box from any other.

“Yes, Mr. Holmes, these look like electrical control mains. I should be able to cut off the power from the console from here; but if your goal is to stop that tower from spinning, the only way to do that, I'm afraid, is at the base of the tower itself. Even without power it will continue for a time by its own momentum. And I think it's spinning faster every minute.”

“Very astute, Hatherley, and precisely why I felt the need for an engineer. If you will attend to the electrical mechanisms, I shall see what I can do about disabling the tower at its base.”

“That'll be dangerous, Mr. Holmes. Best to wait until it's slowed down a bit. Don't want to get your hands caught. And you are, pardon me saying, getting up in years, Mr. Holmes. May not be able to move out of the way as fast as you used to.”

“Solid advice, but highly impractical, I'm afraid, in our current situation. Every moment we hesitate may be a moment too late. By any account, I have already made preparations.” Sherlock Holmes stood and looked from one corner of the room to the next, calmly witnessing many small fights between work-clothed men and colourfully-trimmed women which he was, at the time, in no position to engage with the former nor assist the latter; scarcely avoiding being struck by a flying portion of signboard which now only held the indecipherable statement ' _es r men_ '.

“ 'Er we ar', Mr. 'Olmes. Took longer'an we thought. Whole basement's full a cats.”

“Ah, Jack and his mates, with no time to spare. Felines?”

“Yeah, nothin' but bloomin' cats. Pockets and Lil and Arthur thought they was some kinda goblin, but only cats. Then there was that man.”

“Yes, well you're all here now and time's at a premium. Has each of you brought along the equipment I suggested?”

“Yea MrOlmes I got it. Wan' me ta start bash'n those men?”

“No Arthur, the men are not our goal.”

“Then bash'n the _women_?”

“Most certainly not. Any 'bash'n' shall be directed elsewhere.”

<<<<<< >>>>>>

The Suffragettes were not faring well. While they had entered expecting to find stores of liquor to be destroyed or nests of the despondent and drug-addled to be redeemed or rows of young women forced into actions inappropriate, all while encountering few men offering minimal resistance; they had found a largely barren warehouse with strange electrical equipment and untold number of men each eager and able to defend themselves and whatever mysteries this building held. Some of the women had trained in Ju-Jutisu and all were armed with banners held by sturdy poles and sections of lumber; but they were also beginning to wonder why they were protesting here at all. After searching down hallways and opening doors and finding nothing they had expected, in relative short-order their initial enthusiasm had turned from attacking evils to defending themselves. Those with bloodied noses and split lips had already clustered along one wall, nearest the entry, where Suffragists were attempting to help those injured and the remaining Suffragettes, the best they could, kept away the men who despite injuries of their own continued to fight as if their lives depended upon it.

“There's Mr. Holmes, Kate” Etta yelled over the confusion, pointing toward the sculpture, its rotations and jewels now flashing like lightning. “Him and his boys. How long did he say it would take?”

“Not more than ten minutes, Etta. I don't know if we have that long. The women are falling back, and no matter how many of these men we stop, there seems to be more. Should we try to capture Mr. Cizko? Simply pull him out of that little booth? If we do, I can put him in handcuffs.”

“I don't think we can get to him, Kate. The door's locked and that glass is thick. I tried smashing it with a pole and it made no mark at all. Kate! - watch out for Eve!”

“It's OK, Miss Etta” Eve announced as two men started to run toward her, but passed by as they continued toward the front door. “I think they got other things on their minds. Should I go and find Tess, Miss Etta? You said she needed someone!”

“We can't leave you alone, Eve. Not after what almost happened.”

“I won't be alone. I'll be with Tess.”

“Tess is in no condition to watch over you now, dear. And soon, I may not be either, I'm afraid. I'm feeling a bit woozy...Kate, can you watch...over...her....”

“Etta, were you hit?” Kate cried. “What's wrong, Etta? Here, Eve, help me take her to the door...we need to move her..away....”

“Miss Etta?! Kate?” Eve knelt down beside both women who had slumped to their knees; not as if they were injured or had fainted, but as though they had lost control of their bodies. Etta had her hands clasped in front of her, appearing to plead forgiveness for sins she couldn't have committed; Kate's arms were wrapped tightly around her body in fear or self-protection.

“Oh, Lawrd” Eve stated. “What do we do now?”


	18. Part 18

**Chapter 33**

"Over here, lads" Holmes announced, his Irregulars gathering around him at the base of the Tower. "Now, our goal is to bring this contrivance to a halt. My friend Mr. Hatherley is in the process of disabling its source of power; but even then, it will continue to project whatever infernal effects it is producing while it continues to rotate. And," Holmes glanced around the space, noting fewer men and women fighting while some had slumped to their knees or stood helplessly; "we must complete this task in all haste. What equipment have you brought?"

"Brought a piece ah pipe, jus' like ya said."

"I borrowed a hammer."

"I don't bring nothin' but I found a piece'a lumber onea the women dropped."

"A tire wrench, Mr. 'Olmes. Found it in the street."

"I got me my bat."

"Very good lads, all prudent selections. Now, before any of Dr. Psycho's associates suspect our intentions, we must find a way to impede the motion of this pillar."

"Wan' me ta bash it?"

"We must first stop it, Arthur. Looking closely, you will note at the base of the tower two rather robust anchors embedded into the floor; I believe for securing the mechanism during construction. If you", Holmes indicated toward Stinks and Pockets; "would jam the pipe between those points so it bridges across the opening from which the axle rotates, securing it with a few strong strikes of your hammer; and Jack, locking it into place by forcing the tire wrench beneath; that should prove quite the unyielding foundation for our next action, which we cannot complete until the tower has begun to slow."

"Yes, Sir" the three boys said almost in unison, crawling beneath the steel sculpture even before Holmes was able to caution them.

"And now, Lil", he spoke to the boy, "once I give you the word, your section of lumber will need to be guided between the pipe and the axle, to serve as a brake on the mechanism. Inform Pockets he may need to apply a few strikes of his hammer to make certain the lumber is in place. But do not proceed until I have given the word."

Along the wall just beyond where Sherlock Holmes and his Irregulars crouched and planned, Victor Hatherley had examined the probable electrical connections between the control booth and various motors, dynamos; and other mechanics hidden throughout the building; and had identified which wires he most likely needed to disconnect; as cutting power from unknown sources could easily result in a fire, electrical overload or run-away engine; when for no reason, he began to doubt both those choices, and many other decisions he had made in his life. He questioned the times he felt he had failed to follow through on commitments; University exams he had passed by guesswork and hunch rather than work and study; he looked at the void where his missing thumb had once been, questioning his decision to accept what he'd immediately recognised as a dodgy job and resulting in a hatchet to his hand. He set down his tools, leaned against the wall and his mind blank of everything else, questioned questioning itself. From his left, he didn't notice one of Dr Psycho's henchmen; one rather large and very angry, his nose and lip smeared with blood and a shotgun in his hands; approach and raise the weapon over Victor's head, intending to smash his skull into the wall;...

...until that man, himself, flew past Victor, his back striking the brick and wood; the air in his lungs explosively released with an un-worldly 'HRWOFF', followed by a more-worldly whimper; and he crumpled at Hatherley's feet.

Just beyond, the second and third men who had seen Holmes and his companions moving suspiciously around the base of their Bossman's Thought Amplifier had managed to sneak unseen behind the Detective, who had already instructed and sent-off three of the boys and was now guarded only by one child with a discarded and cracked section of banner-pole, useless in a close fight; and another boy who couldn't be more than four feet tall or weigh over five-stone. Holmes felt a rough hand suddenly grasp his collar and violently start to pull him away, but before he could react, in a nauseating "RHWRIP"; "PUOP"; and "GUARG", the assailant's hand dropped and as Holmes turned to face his opponent, he saw the man, his right arm dangling uselessly, grasp at his neck with his remaining hand, eyes bulging and gasping for breath. At the instant Holmes was attacked, both Little Pockets and Arthur had jumped to their feet, broken pole and bat at the ready, when the third of Dr. Psycho's men stepped between the boys and grabbed their arms, one left and one right, which happened to be the arms both boys carried their weapons. The henchman, small-framed but highly-muscled, twisted and pulled until the boys winced with pain, their attempts at kicking and struggling and punching with their other arms of no more use than fighting against a mattress. More swiftly than the boys could understand, at first thinking it was their arms that were being broken; both heard two sharp 'CRAKS' of bones splintering and saw the man drop to the floor in agony, just as Sherlock Holmes, his assailant having been dispatched by, Holmes suspected, one of the Suffragettes; rushed to the boys aid.

"We ask forgiveness for not having arrived at the time we were expected", Miravati apologised; "Aunti-Ji did not think it appropriate for women to climb over a fence and she would not proceed until we constructed a type of stair-way made from abandoned crates. There are not as many abandoned crates in an alleyway as one would think."

"We had to search two other alleys to find all we needed", Mira's sister, Hirava, added, joining them from the electrical box where she had briefly revived Mr. Hatherley and encouraged him to to continue his work. "It was very exciting!"

**Chapter** **34**

Eve had also seen the three henchmen approaching Sherlock Holmes and the two boys who were kneeling not far from the base of the spinning metal sculpture, as the remaining members of Jack's gang crawled toward the tower, carrying pipes and tools and hammer. She looked to see if Jack, himself, was among the two waiting or the three likely to be at any minute pulverised in the whirling contraption, but between the men and women who continued to fight, although less vigorously; those stumbling about as if in a daze; and the few that had collapsed onto the floor; Eve couldn't be certain which one of those boys was Jack; not that she particularly cared; and because she had more immediate concerns.

"It'll be alright Miss Etta, something must 'a hit you in the head; and Kate, too" she huffed as she dragged and pulled and partially-carried Etta toward the nearest wall and out of the way, only then noticing the nearest wall was alongside the front entrance and to the side of that entrance, set away from the bleeding and broken Suffragettes, Tess lay on her side, partially propped against a low, wooden cabinet, her eyes partially closed; her mouth hanging open; and looking as if she were dead. Eve placed Etta alongside Kate who she'd moved just moments before, after she had shaken and jolted and even considered slapping them both; but realised it would make little difference; the women had either been injured or had lost their senses, their initial positions of prayer and protection quickly wilting until both had collapsed on the floor and when she saw their eyes had rolled back in their heads, Eve knew whatever needed to be done, she had to do herself. "Lawrd, what a pickle" she said aloud as no one would notice if she had said anything or not. "Kate, and Tess, and Miss Etta, all hurt and Mr. Holmes's gotta fight off those men with just a handful of boys to help him and the women are all bleeding and that bloomin' tower is still going round and round and that little runt is all safe in his little stall and there's nothing I can do about any of it. I don't know what happened to Hirava and was Mira supposed to come or not and why did Diana have to go away!" she screamed in frustration; the only sounds more piercing than her voice a 'HRWOFF'; 'RHWRIP'; "PUOP"; and two sickening 'CRAKS' that Eve was certain had to have come from injuries to Sherlock Holmes, who she had tried to warn everyone was clearly getting up in years; and the five boys who acted as if they were men but were no more than boys; each of them now being thoroughly thrashed.

There was nothing she could do; but she had to do _something_. Checking that her three friends were more-or-less safe, that probably nothing worse and most likely nothing better could happen to them; she ran toward the tower, scooting around stunned women and senseless men, to find Sherlock Holmes having a very reasonable conversation, considering the situation, with Miravati; her sister Hirava; and their Aunti-ji.

"...on the contrary, that was quite impeccable timing, Miss Mukerjea", Mr. Holmes was saying as Eve arrived. "Considering the odds, between the boys and I it would have been less than a fair fight. And I am, for reasons I hesitate to acknowledge, starting to become a bit faint."

Eve saw that at the base of the still-rotating-but-slowing tower, two of the boys were hammering into place a stick of lumber that had been fitted beneath a pipe secured to the floor. A few feet away, one of Dr. Psycho's men lay on the ground like rag doll, both arms in un-humanlike poses which would probably be very painful if he hadn't already passed out. Behind the tower, where she'd first seen Mr. Holmes and his boys, another man was slumped against the wall, one hand at his throat and the other hanging loose at his side as the man drew his legs to his chest as if a frightened child. A bit further, two men; one dressed in shirt and overalls which would have been unremarkable except for their stains of blood and saliva; mindlessly ran the fingers of one hand endlessly through his hair; while the second, clothed as a workman would be expected to dress but with far more care than most would; had slumped over an opened panel containing electrical wires.

"Mira...Hirava...are you alright?" Eve stammered.

"Yes, there is no need for concern. We were apologising to Mr. Holmes for arriving late. However, we were able to help in the best way we could" Mira stated.

'Then you two...you did all this?" Eve gasped. "Hirava, you know how to fight?"

"Miravati is much better than I. Father insisted she and I take courses to defend ourselves. You do not know how Father can be."

"And it was not only Hirava and I. Auntie-ji is not to be discounted", Mira added.

Aunti Ji surveyed Miravati and Hirava, confirming they had not been harmed; glanced at Eve, seeing she was un-hurt; noted the only damage to Sherlock Holmes had perhaps been to his pride; adjusted her corset which had become slightly disarranged when she had simultaneously grasped the henchman by his wrists and in one move, wrested them upward; inward; and back; breaking them both; and said nothing.

"Mr. 'Olmes!" a boys voice sounded, muffled by the rasping squeal of wood wearing against metal; "I think it's slowin' down 'n it's lookin' kinda loose; but I don't think Stinks and Lil's feelin' too good." Holmes turned just in time to see Big Pockets, who had been speaking, fall to his knees beside the other two, each with eyes large and bodies tensed, every muscle fearfully twitching as those of a captured animal.

"Well, done, lads!" Holmes exclaimed. "Neither a moment too soon; nor without cost. Jack, help me relocate your companions; we must hope once this contrivance is destroyed, they, along with the others, will recover from whatever trance they've become subjected to. Watson's medical expertise should be welcomed at this point, confound it. If you can take Lil and place him against that far wall; nearby Miss Candy and Miss Akter and Officer Sandsmark; do you see, Jack?; then I shall be responsible for Stinks and return for Pockets before this tower falls upon us all."

"I'll take him, Mr. Holmes."

"No, Miss Brown; the situation has become far too perilous; this is not a job for a woman."

"Looks like women have been doing alright up to now" Eve answered, grabbing the boy beneath his arms and dragging him toward her friends before Holmes could say anything further.

"Look 'ere, Evie. You gotta save yourself; don't be worrying 'bout us" Jack added, pulling Lil by the collar of his jacket. "We got it all in-hand."

"Looks like everything's falling apart and nothing's in anyone's hands, let me tell you. And don't call me Evie."

Sherlock Holmes, having set Stinks beside the others; all who had, after only a few moments, passed from their expressions of fear or confusion or consideration or other multiple forms of manipulation into what began as a state resembling coma but soon progressed into what appeared to be near death; ran back toward the center of the cavernous warehouse, carefully weaving around bodies of men and women who lay quivering or motionless. "Everyone, we must stand clear of this area" he announced, gesturing toward the Amplifier Tower which, while it had ceased sparking and glowing and rotating; was nevertheless leaning at a precarious angle. "Aunti-ji; if you will watch over the young women; Jack and I shall try to move whatever bodies we can out of danger." But Holmes spoke too late; Miravati and Hirava and Eve had already begun pulling; pushing; and dragging Suffragettes away from the center of the room; and in Aunti-ji's case, removing the inanimate bodies of henchmen by kicking them steadily across the floor, as if she were rolling a carpet.

"That's it Mr. 'Olmes' Jack announced, steadying himself on the side of the Control Cabin as Dr Psycho, seemingly lost in a trance, took no notice of what had been happening outside his shielded enclosure. "All outa' the way...we gotta move now..tooo..."Jack ebbed, his body sliding down the shielded wall of the small building until he slipped to the floor, drawing his legs to his chest; crossed his arms over his body; and gently rocked to-and-fro.

"Not to worry, Jack, all will be set right momentarily" Holmes encouraged, kneeling to take the boy in his arms. "Arthur?" he called to the one, small boy still standing, waiting with bat in hand at the base of the tower.

"Yea MrOlmes?"

_"_ _Bash."_

And before he had a chance to rise, Sherlock Holmes replaced Jack to the floor; sat next to him, cross-legged; calmly removed a pipe, tin of tobacco, and copy of the 'Gazzette' from his coat; and if not otherwise obvious by the dozens of bodies propped and laying silent and motionless throughout the room; cries of panic and pain and sorrow and regret cast by the few men and women who were no longer standing but had crumpled to the floor, lost in unknown worlds of their minds; the sound of a bat bashing against metal, soon followed by the clatter and thump of bat and body collapsing; and the sight of a thirty foot, jewel-encrusted tower in the midst of free-fall; anyone looking on would have thought Holmes had settled in for a pleasant afternoon; until he; also, toppled to his side and was gone.


	19. Part 19

**Chapter 35**

One by one, Eve watched her friends fall. Officer Kate who was so dedicated and fair-minded and Miss Etta who seemed so strong and good and Tess...what had happened to Tess, who had collapsed only seconds after the two of them had broken through the door? Jack and his friends lay helplessly on the floor, looking even more like boys than the boys they were; Mr. Holmes' friend had passed out over the electrical box where he had been working and even Sherlock Holmes himself, who Eve realised had been resisting, eventually became powerless. Less then twenty feet away, Mira and her sister and their Aunt, in the midst of looking after others, abruptly turned aside, knelt on the floor, carefully tucking their skirts under their legs; folded their hands in their laps and for a few minutes appeared to be praying or meditating until their bodies dropped as softly and formless as empty sacks.

Eve waited for whatever was happening to overtake her, an invisible sickness she couldn't avoid or inescapable chemicals in the air or unseen hands that reached out, just as Talbot had claimed to call forth to the amazement and delight of his audience. But, so far Eve had felt little; for a moment strange thoughts came into her mind, thoughts she hadn't willed or even thought of at all but imaginings and memories that seemed to have been drawn from deep within her mind, arising by their own; but these were thoughts projected from outside, more like cinema images on a screen rather than one's own. Harsh, clipped questions probed her mind: _Your so-called 'friends', twice your age who look down on you, are not friends at all but only feel pity for the poor, useless girl that showed up on their doorstep...you'll find yourself once again alone and on the streets, once they've had their fill of your immature hysterics; life's harsh on a girl with no education, no skills, no manners and no family...the only thing you have to offer is your body, and that's the only thing a man would want from you; what purpose is there in living? a few years of debasement and decay and poverty, dying alone and unremembered; there's no purpose to you, no point...better to just give up._ Mixed, confused visions of Eve's past thrust and attempted to pierce her mind; mistakes she had made; losses she would never recover; fears for her parents and her sister who she had lost with no trace and few memories and little hope, leaving her nothing to hold onto. _'Who am I'_ , her thoughts flashed; _'just a nobody with nothing.'_

<<<<<<>>>>>>

Dr. Psycho, eyes closed and burrowed in concentration, had not seen his tower about to fall nor that while those in the room, the women intruders as well as his own men; had begun to succumb to his mental manipulations resulting in doubt and confusion followed by insensibility, unconsciousness and for some, within a half-hour or so, death; Sherlock Holmes and the boys he had named his _'Irregulars'_ had been working attentively and to plan. Most aggravating of all were the women, believing themselves pure and upright, who had arranged and enticed their way onto Edgar Cizko's private property and into his plans when women of any sort had no business involving themselves at all. But before he had focused his mind and closed his eyes and begun to direct his thoughts, generally piercing the psyche of everyone within a fifty foot radius and through the augmenting properties of his Energy Amplifying Tower, concentrating his own mental abilities as it increased the distance and intensity and at the same time allowed him to identify individuals, separating their minds into discrete elements he could puncture and control directly; Edgar was confident that within only a few minutes none around him would remain conscious and soon all of England, and the world, would know of his abilities and recognise his superiority.

One by one, Dr Psycho felt minds collapse and beings fall. His own men, each one irrelevant and interchangeable and easily replaceable; the Suffragettes or Suffragists or whatever name those women had adopted this year from the many they were called, along with other women Edgar sensed who did not, in their minds, identify with either group while seeing themselves just as proper and righteous, the minds of women always being a bit more convoluted than those of men although just as flawed and soft and ultimately, easily penetrated. In his mind, Cizko saw men; or possibly boys who wished themselves men; fall away, probably drawn into the excitement by curiosity or poor sense; and clearly, he knew even the great Sherlock Holmes who believed himself limited by no man, was no match to Edgar's superior mind and had been broken and tamed. While Dr. Psycho for reasons he didn't know had been unable to see into the entirety of the Detectives mind, as he could for all others; he had gained enough control to remove Holmes from attempting to prevent the ultimate achievement of his plan. Assured there was no one remaining to oppose or deny all he was due; or at least no one with any mental abilities remaining to exploit; Edgar began to clear his mind; relaxed his concentration; and opened his eyes as the remains of his collapsing Amplifying Tower shadowed within fifteen feet of the control booth.

Near panic and beyond comprehension of what he saw hurdling toward him, Cizko jostled the handle of the cabin door; pushed against the controls and the glass and the walls, realising the former no longer operated and recalling he had designed the latter as impregnable; briefly wondered if that indestructibility would be effective against tons of metal and shards of gemstone and deciding it would not; and just as the tower scratched the glass above his head, remembered the door was locked; slipped the latch; and rolled free while behind him, the small control booth fractured and splintered and cracked and sparked in a wave of glass and wood and metal and live electrical connections.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

But Eve had answered and dismissed those questions almost as quickly as they had appeared in her mind. She had been fortunate to find friends who cared for her and depended on her; if they were all much older than she, wasn't that just like having not one, but many older sisters? Despite never having advantages others took for granted, she had never thought herself inferior; nor did she believe herself better than anyone else. It was true she might not immediately understand everything that happens; or even, sometimes, not even after trying to think about it carefully; but she had learned more in these past weeks than she had in sixteen years; and most surprising of all, she'd found she liked learning, as long as it wasn't from old dry books and teachers making you remember things without ever telling you why you were supposed to remember them. Eve loved her sister Lila and knew Lila loved her and even though they'd been forced apart; one day they would find each other again and if they didn't, the love for Lila and for her parents would always be there and no one could take that away. She was Eve Brown; an orphan who had found the best family she could have ever wished. She had no doubts; no worries; no fears; no questions but welcomed every day as it came, believing with all her strength that for every bad there was a corresponding good; and while the world might not be just as we'd like it to be; that only means there's a better world coming.

Eve jumped slightly to her right, followed by three large steps, careful not to trip on anyone around her, as the tower crashed into Dr. Psychos control booth and Dr. Psycho himself vaulted safely out of the way, rolling across the floor until he was stopped by the awkwardly prone body of one of his henchmen. For a few moments the only sounds echoing within the warehouse were the few pieces of metal and mineral continuing to shatter and strike the floor; and the brief, wheezing gasps as Dr. Psycho re-gained his breath and his sensibilities. Cizko stood; brushed off his pants; straightened his jacket and tie; brushed his hair back with one hand and surveyed the room, starting from what had been the base of the tower and continuing to the men and women, each slumped and helpless; past the destruction that had been caused when the tower fell, toward the front entry where even more women, _'Suffragettes'_ he sneered; lay in groups; finally, Edgar thought; their annoying voices silenced; and ultimately at the man he recognised, despite any disguise, as Sherlock Holmes.

“What a shame” Cizko stated. “Quite the clutter that will need to be cleared, the Tower and electrical systems to be re-built, and none of the men I've been paying just for such work appear to be in any state to do their jobs.” He kicked at the body of one of this helpers, a man who was now of no use to anyone. “Luckily there are many more where I found these. I only sensed those minds within, I would estimate, a two mile radius; not what I had hoped, but sufficient for now. Enough to reach to Westminster; Parliament; the Palace; and associated Governmental offices where anyone important has now been incapacitated. Unfortunately that means I shall need to bring men in from further away” he sighed, speaking to no one but himself while considering how unfair life was to have left him with such a burden.

**Chapter 36**

“What's that supposed to mean? All this, everyone you hurt; it's all 'cause 'a you.”

Dr. Psycho reeled back, toward the one direction in the warehouse he had failed to look. Less than ten feet away was a girl of of some un-important age between girl and woman. She was dressed in white, as the Suffragettes although seemingly too young to have been caught up in their nonsense. Any ridiculous hat the girl might have worn had been lost, and on one side of her head caramel-coloured hair fell loosely while the other side remained pinned; a 'Votes for Women' sash had been torn from her waist but still hung from her right shoulder; and there were spots of blood on her shirtwaist and skirt.

“What is...Who are....” Psycho spat, knowing no one could have withstood his mental controls. With a deep breath he placed his right hand to his temple, closed his eyes, and focused his energies on the girl who had dared to deny him. In her mind he would find guilt and longing and loss and desire; she was probably old enough, Cizko knew, for him to uncover lust and other lewd appetites; by piercing not too far beneath the surface, he had enfeebled far greater minds than that of an immature female.

Thoughts of Lila entered Eve's mind; of the pain when they had been separated, and the greater loss of their parents; and Eve remembered even though they were apart, she and her sister knew their love would always keep them close and neither would ever be without the love of their parents. Confusing feelings of desire and possession thrust through her mind and her body; while she reminded herself what Miss Etta and Kate and Tess had said was true; that becoming a woman was not what the world sees on the outside, but of maturing inside to become a whole person, not just a marriageable Miss. Images of fear and abandonment and ridicule flashed into Eve's head; and she smiled with memories of all the friends she'd made; of how she would never again be alone; of the faith Diana held in her when no one had ever believed in her before.

Dr. Psycho eased his concentration and relaxed his body, assured this one remaining obstacle; a single nobody who had somehow avoided his control, had been broken; but when he opened his eyes, the girl remained. “ _Impossible!”_ he seethed. “Not only are you less than insignificant, but you are wasting my time. Perhaps your inconsequentiality is such that truly, no one cares or even knows you exist; your mind may be of such irrelevance, its nothingness cannot even register my greater strength.”

Eve looked at the sad, sorry little man across from her who, despite standing locked in place, his fingertips to his temples, eyes partially closed in concentration until his body trembled and beads of sweat formed on his brow; the man who her friends and Sherlock Holmes had suspected of plotting to overtake the country just because he said he could; who had been feared for his unknown and uncontrollable powers; who was a mystery hidden in the darkness and who now seemed so angry yet so powerless.

“That's not true” she challenged, her irritation simmering. “I know I'm maybe not as important as the King or Diana or even Mr Holmes; but you don't have to be important to be somebody. I got friends who care about me and I care about them. And when you care about someone, that should be enough to make you somebody, and good enough, right there. Don't go saying I'm not no one, when it looks like you're the one that don't have any friends.”

Cizko breathed deeply, removing the tenuous penetration he had attempted, and gazed suspiciously at the girl. “I believe I remember you; one of Talbot's assistants. Is he responsible for teaching you how to secure your mind from my control? Is he even now opposing me, using his powers, through you, to mock me? Is he here now?” Victor quickly looked about the hall again, searching for someone hidden in the shadows.

“Percy?” Eve huffed. “He can't do any of those things. And he's onto mysticism and spiritualists now, anyway. Got himself a good grift.”

“HA!” Dr. Psycho chortled. “Another of his maneuvres to prove his abilities are greater than mine. It is clear he has taken over your consciousness and what infinitesimal brain matter you possess.”

“Now let me tell you...” Eve began, annoyance turning to anger.

“He is the only other who approaches my skills. But why should I share my story with you? That would only be a waste of my time and would not further my plans; you don't deserve to know my reasoning, the pain I have suffered and sacrifices I have made; of the efforts I made toward Talbot, greeting him with hand extended, proposing we work together, setting aside my dignity to fall to his level; providing him the opportunity to share in my mastery. By coupling our abilities, we could have been relentless, invincible. But he is a clown, more interested in showmanship and flourish than action. Where I knew once my powers were unleashed mankind would grovel and bow at my feet; he decided to cast aside his gifts and true calling, access to realms beyond which any man has ever known, for applause and acclaim. But in my intent, I had always been the superior. When I learned how to breach men's minds, seeing inside their souls and guiding them beyond their petty dreams and wishes, I was considered abnormal; dangerous; a monster; labeled 'Dr. Psycho' and due to my superior mental mastery overshadowing my physical presence, I was ridiculed, my discoveries and insight overlooked and neglected. When the War arrived; and I had been aware of its inevitability years prior to those first shots; I volunteered my mind, my skills, all I was, toward a quick defeat of the German army. I could see inside their minds; I knew their plans before they did! But our glorious British Generals laughed at me; Government officials, looking down from their assumed importance and from their polished desks, refused to listen to what I could offer, informing me this is not a 'boys' war but a mans...claiming my only use was as a ratter, no better than a mongrel encouraged to remove vermin from the trenches...that in France I would sink into the mire and be lost, like a forgotten piece of equipment...that I should go home and be quiet. Fools! My value was not to be placed in the midst of mud and filth, but in preventing our enemies from waging war itself! With my mental powers I could have muddled the minds of German Commanders, forced them to smash their weapons and abolish their armies...I could have made the Kaiser's brain into that of a slobbering, blubbering infant! But rather than accepting me, the English chose to accept the deaths of millions. And now, as disabled and disturbed soldiers return to a damaged and crippled country, what does the Government expect? That everyone will go back to things as they were, that everyone will forget and move on? No!! I see what will happen....Men will be lost, unable to work, to care for themselves or their families....women are widowed, children fatherless...society itself open to revolt and revolution! And the Government, social organizations, 'do-gooders', no one can, or will, do anything. None but me. I alone can stop this destruction of England, of all we know. I alone can justify the losses of these four years. And this time, NO ONE will prevent me.”

Eve felt she had already heard too much of the story Dr. Psycho had plainly told her he wouldn't waste his time telling, and she could have interrupted at any point; could have told Dr. Psycho just what she thought of his ideas; of his speech; of him. But from the street she could hear the sounds of approaching whistles; the police would be here soon; and she had been working on keeping her irritabilities inside, whenever she could; and if not, trying not to boil over quite so easily. While she didn't necessarily want to be the one having to listen to this self-important flumbering about; maybe Dr. Psycho needed to get it off his chest.

“But why tell you, a slip of a girl no one cares about, no one cares for, unsuitable even as a stage hand for a second-rate tent performer. You are no one and your friends, despite their smug pretensions, have no true strengths. Look at them, worthless and disposable.” Psycho gestured to Sherlock Holmes and his band of boys; to Etta and Kate and Tess; “The boys who will never be men; the women who thought they were better than men; superior to _ME_. Even now one of the few men in my employ who is dependable has, I see, evaded the disruption you and your companions have foolishly and poorly planned, and will soon be initiating the strategy I have outlined foreseeing just such a scenario. Within a few months, I will re-establish and exceed all I have accomplished; nothing you will have attempted to change here will make any difference. As for you, your only use is that of a hostage; yes, I am aware of the approaching police” he continued, noticing Eve had slightly turned her head toward the entrance-way; “and despite my physical limitations, I am certainly capable of dominating a little girl.” With more force than Eve expected, Psycho dashed forward, both hands reaching for Eve's neck. She glanced from side to side, looking for a weapon or something to defend herself, but even when she took a step to the side, anything useful was still too far away. She could see the hate in Psycho's eyes; he was almost near enough to feel his breath on her skin, to smell the scent of his over-perfumed cologne. Eve raised her arms to protect herself; hesitated as she recalled something; formed her hands into fists and thrust her left forward, slightly pivoting to the right and catching Psycho on his jaw, twisting his neck to the left; she then balanced on her heels and swiveled toward her target, driving her right arm forward and up, remembering to use the power of her entire body, until her fist caught Psycho under his chin, snapping his head backward in a spray of spittle and blood. The momentum carried through his body like a wave and he flowed onto the floor, landing at first with a soft _'thrwmp'_ ; followed by a distinct _'scrack'_ as his skull met the concrete floor.


	20. Part 20

**Chapter 37**

“Lawrd” Eve gasped, rubbing the knuckles of one hand with her other, glowering over Dr. Psycho who lay dazed and senseless at her feet. “That's for saying my friends aren't worth nothing, when any one of them is worth a hundred a you and none of them talk so much.”

“Police!” one officer shouted from the doorway as five others pulled and lifted the limp forms of Suffragettes and Suffragists away from the building. “Everyone remain where you are. Metropolitan Police!” he repeated for confirmation, additional officers crowding in behind him.

“No one's going anywhere. Nobody can move” Eve stated, sweeping her hands around the warehouse, at bodies the police assumed were dead until one officer noticed each; or possibly most; were still breathing. “ 'Cept me, and I'm not leaving my friends.”

“Inspector” the observant officer called toward an older man not wearing a uniform but whom the others granted space and authority. “I think this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Sir” the officer continued, pulling Holmes up by the shoulders and supporting him at his back. “He doesn't seem to be injured, Sir; more like he's asleep. I don't know what could'a caused it.”

Inspector Lestrade snapped forward, a black bowler hat on his head and his body so bent within his over-sized over-coat his only recognisible features were the sharpness of his nose, chin, and eyes. “My word Holmes, what have you gotten yourself into now” he stated, bending over the Detective to make certain of his identity beyond the now fading and loose disguise. “Once you come 'round, we'll be having a nice, long talk about all this, I assure you. O'Fallen!” he roared toward a young policeman who seemed to be standing about, eyes wide and mouth open, doing nothing. “Go up to St Thomas' and bring back all the docs and ambulances you can find; tell 'em it's...it's...” Lestrade scanned the warehouse, at a loss of who or how or what had happened; seeing little motion from anyone other than his men and the only person standing a young woman in a torn dress and indignant expression. “tell 'em it's a _police emergency_.”

<<<<<<>>>>>>

“Miss Atker, it was only by exerting what little influence I have among the highest authorities that we find you, once again, in hospital under my responsibility and receiving skilled care rather than committed to Bethlam where, I am afraid, there is no responsibility and little care whatsoever.” Sherlock Holmes, again clothed in his usual tweed suit, lounged easily at a chair beside Tess's bed, although is eyes meticulously observed every movement of the nurse that had completed checking the bandages on Tess's head; shoulder; and now, both arms; and was adjusting the patient's blanket and pillows.

“One can only imagine my astonishment when the stimulant I was provided roused me from the warehouse floor to find the rather shocking countenance of Lestrade gazing down upon me; and as I scrambled to investigate the well-being of you and your friends, my surprise as the doctor administering his injections rolled up your sleeve to find not only evidence of the few doses we had agreed upon; but a series of jabs indicating un-warranted additions you had taken upon yourself to locate and administer; from where and by what manner I prefer not to envision.”

“It was only to keep me goin', Mr. Holmes. I felt so strong after your visits, I thought what's the harm of a bit more? The ladies were all countin' on me, you see, and I didn't want to let them down.”

“And you define not 'letting them down' as collapsing seconds after you entered the building, leaving Miss Brown to be ensnared by one of Edgar Cizko's men, as activities resulting in _'no harm'_? While those who _'counted on you' ,_ as you say, fought and carried though their actions according to plan, believing you would do the same, never imagining you would fall into a drug-induced coma resulting from back-alleyway transactions of substances unfit for use? If you were in need of additional help, why didn't you come to me? Truly, Miss Atker; I am quite angry.”

“I didn't think it would hurt, Mr. Holmes”, Tess apologised as best she could, groggy from the coarse, dangerous drugs she had secreted and the specified doses now being administered in a effort to counter-act the poisons she had injected into her body.

“I am sorry to say you are mistaken. It has caused great harm; not, thankfully, to your friends nor any of the Suffragettes and Suffragists who volunteered their assistance; nor to our goal of preventing Cizko from fulfilling his scheme, or even of him now being in police custody; but your actions have caused great harm to you, personally. You have attempted to capture the Devil by his tail, without realising once consorted with, He will have you in His grasp far more securely than you believed He was in yours. I am afraid you have a long and difficult journey ahead of you, Miss Atker; and while I shall endeavour to assist in any way possible; I speak from experience when I say such a journey can only be taken by oneself.”

“But Kate and Etta and Mira and Eve are all safe, Mr. Holmes? And the police 'ave got that runtlocked up?”

“As attested by Watson, 'dwarf' is the preferred terminology, Miss Atker; and in answer to your question, Edger Cizko is now securely behind bars, the authorities awaiting details of his plot which I shall soon provide; and your companions, including both Misses Mukerjea and their Aunt, are all safe and well, although somewhat frayed. In fact....”

“I'd 'spect so. Was it Kate that caught Cizko? Or Mira that stopped 'im? Couldn't a been Etta, 'though I've always thought there was more to her than meet the eye....”

“Actually, each were bested by Cizko's powers, enhanced through his electro-mechanical device; as were we all. _Nearly_ all, I should correct myself.”

“Then it musta been you, Mr. Holmes, that captured 'im.”

“The only person able to resist the suppression of rational thought he exacted upon all, was Miss Brown.”

“Eve?!” Tess coughed, gasping in pain from the sudden movement. “She's no more than a girl; what'd she do; run out and find a Patrolman?”

“The best I understand, she became angry and inflicted a well-placed and surprisingly forceful left-hook immediately followed by an upper-cut to the jaw. Cizko went down and apparently, never arose.”

Tess started to laugh, quickly lessened to a slight chuckle by pain and a clouded mind. “Well how 'bout that.”

“As I was saying, in fact she, and another of your companions, are just now outside hoping they may place a brief visit; if you, and your nurse allow.”

“Well a' course! Send 'em in, no matter what anyone else says.”

Holmes glanced toward the nurse, who silently nodded her head and pointed to her watch, indicating the visit must be brief; and he then directed his attention toward a small figure sitting, largely unobserved, near the door. “Jack, if you will, ask Miss Brown and Miss Mukerjea to enter; only for a few moments.”

**Chapter 38**

“Tess!” Eve hallooed, rushing to Tess's bed. “How are you are you OK the docs say you need your rest and can't get too much excitement but Kate and Miss Etta and Hirava and Auntie and some of Mr Holmes boys are all outside and they said I could come see you even if they couldn't and then go back and tell 'em that you're feeling better. Are you feeling better? Mira's here too, she thinks she can help even though the docs say what you need most is to be let alone.”

“I'm better, Eve. Tell everyone I'm better, but Mr. Holmes thinks I still have a ways to go.”

“The nature of Miss Atker's...condition, is such that she will require care for a far longer period that would otherwise be necessary” Holmes added.

“We'll take care of you, Tess” Eve exclaimed. “Just like we did before.”

“Admirable, Miss Brown, but I fear Miss Atker's care may need to be administered by those with more specific skills and training.”

“Oh” Eve sighed. “Must'a gotten hurt pretty bad, huh?”

“It'll all be OK, Eve. I don't think anything that's happened to me, is half of what you did to Cizko.”

“He was being mean, saying things that aren't true, and tying to hurt people just because he thought he could. Because he said it's so, he wanted everyone else to think it's true, too and I got angry. I tried not to, Tess, really I did; but he just went on and on about how he's suffered and no one likes him and how he's better than everyone and, I guess I just got tired of it.”

“Miss Brown”, Holmes added; “none of us were aware; I believe; you have studied the science of pugilism and are so well skilled in the noble art.”

“Huh?”

“That you can fight, Eve” Tess explained. “Know how to use your hands.”

“Oh, that's just something Miss Etta showed me. She said her Captain Trevor taught her a few moves in case she ever needed 'em, and then she showed me what she'd learned. It's not nothing” Eve finished, shrugging her shoulders.

The nurse deliberately cleared her throat, catching Holmes' attention. “Ladies, I see our Matron has determined we have overstayed our welcome. If you will say your good-byes, we shall return tomorrow; until then, rest assured I am confident your friend shall receive the best of care.”

“Not yet, Mr. Holmes. Mira says she needs to talk with Tess.”

“Just a few moments, nurse, I'm sure” Tess explained.

“Perhaps if Miss Brown and I make our leave, that would provide a bit less stimulation. Miss Atker”, Holmes bowed, on his way to the door collecting Eve by the elbow who turned back to call “ 'Night, Tess! We all love you and miss you!”

<<<<<<>>>>>>

“I'm sorry for letting you all down, Mira.” As soon as Eve had gone and the door closed, Tess lay back, her smile faded, clearly in pain.

'It is not us you have failed; it is yourself. The body and the mind must be recognised not as realities which determine your existence; but only as containers of the life which they shelter and nourish. To favor or misuse any part over the whole will lead all into disorder. Of what Mr. Holmes has told me, you hold inside much you believe can be opposed only by continuing to harm all who you are.”

“Then what am I supposed to do, Mira? All the loss, and pain, and emptiness? Just leave it inside to eat away at me 'till I can't take it any more?”

“No life is without pain, even while some must endure more than others. It is by our suffering and our compassion and our joy which allows us to ascend to higher planes. What you must do is let go.”

“From what? Memories I can't forget, scars I'll never be without?”

“Everything. You must let go of everything and accept that whatever you need will be provided.”

Tess eased forward on one elbow; the nurse appearing at her side, glancing warily at Mira.

“You mean if I just wait, I'll get anything I want?”

“Not that you want; all which you need. Perhaps not in the manner you wish, or at the time you think is necessary; but you must believe you will receive according to need; not by demand but by necessity. Only by ceasing to desire will you receive. Mr. Holmes has warned your journey will be long and difficult; each of us are on similar journeys and each must follow our own pathway. But it is important to remember none of us must take our journey alone.”

<<<<<<>>>>>>

“Miss Candy,” Holmes began, legs crossed at the ankles and leaning against the wall outside Tess's hospital room; “one point I have been unable to establish. How were you able to convince such a numerous company of Suffragettes and Suffragists to assemble at Cizko's building? Pointedly, when canon and concerns of each remain in conflict?”

Opposite, among the four women sitting anxiously; five boys hanging about listlessly; and one young Miss doing her best to avoid eye contact with one boy in particular while glancing in his direction at every opportunity; Etta set down the knitting that had been occupying her hands and mind, and looked up at the Detective, her cheeks tinting red in embarrassment. “I told them inside was a sweatshop dedicated to producing hard drink; financed by a secret group of industrialists who employed child labour working all hours of the day and night; and there had been rumours of girls gone missing and forced into white slavery.”

“Ah” Holmes replied; “that will do it. And Jack, when the five of you entered from the street and emerged from hallways deep within the building, you say you encountered a man attempting his escape?”

“Yeah, runnin' down the 'allway. Wearin' some type 'a white gown, looked all panicked like, 'n was bleedin' and limpin' on one leg.”

“Was he able, in fact, to succeed in his evasion?” Holmes pressed, concerned if allowing even one man involved with Cizko's plan could possibly result in future complications.

“Naw. Arthur bashed 'im, 'nd later I saw a copper draggin' 'im out.”

“I was thinking...” Eve muttered, claiming the single remaining chair before one of the boys who had been eyeing it decided to come sit close by her; “...down in Brighton, Talbot said something about people's thoughts still being around after they're dead, and made it sound like he found out how he could understand those thoughts, but then acted like it was all just part of the act...then that Dr. Psycho went on about Talbot not using his real talent, and being able to see things other's can't. What's that supposed to mean? Do you think Talbot can talk to people that're dead?”

“No, dear, that can't be done. We will all be re-united in heaven, and not before.”

“Those were only attempts at mis-direction, Eve. Very common among criminal types.”

“Sounds like a kook ta me.”

“Yea what Jack said. Somekinda kook.”

“Well I don want to be doin' nothin' where there's dead people.”

“Prob'ly a goblin talkin' that he thinks'a dead person. “Ur maybe a elf. They do'at, sometimes.”

“Naw, like them pirates, dead men eren't gonna say nothin'.”

“I do not know this 'Talbot' person, but only those who have meditated long and deeply can access their greater selves.”

Auntie-ji, sitting straight and unbending on the last chair aside Hirava and slightly removed from all others, said nothing while listening closely to all that was being said.

“Miss Brown”, the Great Detective concluded, “in many instances I have found significant discrepancies between what a person may say; what they wish others to believe; and what they may believe, themselves. Only upon careful and methodical investigation can the differences between each be uncovered. When one has eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“Lawrd Mr, Holmes; what's _that_ supposed to mean?”

<<<<<<>>>>>>

More than a week later, having just seen Tess transferred from hospital to London's foremost rest home dedicated to long-term care and convalescence and finalising that all costs be forwarded to 221B Baker street; Holmes rushed from cab to dockside, arriving at the foot of the gangway just as his friend came into view at the ship's railing, crowded between an older woman wearing a now unfashionably-large and feathered hat; a group of foreign gentlemen Holmes recognised as originating from either Bosnia and Herzegovina but between the two he could not yet be certain; and family of six loaded with bags and baggage sufficient for a party twice that amount.

“Ah, Watson!” Holmes exclaimed as his friend once again set foot on English soil. “Good to have you back. I trust your journey was fulfilling.”

“Wouldn't say that, exactly, Holmes. Ghastly situation in Paris; Germany's being picked apart until there will be nothing left. Did my best to speak for those requiring basic humanitarian care, but the opinions of a Reserve Medical Officer don't stand for much, I'm afraid.” The older man set down his valise and reached in his pocket for his pipe, dropping his umbrella while a passer-by knocked off his hat. “Abominable voyage” he grumbled, at a loss as to which of his belongings he should secure first. “A man would think all of Europe has taken it into their heads to move from one place to another. Were you aware, Holmes, it's not only the Belgians that have been starving, but the German people, also?

“Yes, Watson, I am” Holmes answered, handing Watson his hat and umbrella and gesturing they move away from the crowd.

“Horrendous. Seems the blasted French are determined to bleed them dry. Not much to do about it, I'm afraid. Anything happen here while I've been at the Armistice conferences? Do me good to have something to write about other than war and suffering.”

“Nothing of note, Watson. A bit of a brush up concerning precious gemstones; mental manipulation; and potential disruption of the Government. All situations we readily addressed.”

“We, Holmes?”

“Myself; a few of the boys; a former client; quite a surprising number of Suffragists and Suffragettes; a rather capable League of Women; and an extraordinary young woman, quite astonishing in her achievements; some may even say, un-worldly.”

“Former client? Suffragists and Suffragettes? Mystical women?“ Watson huffed as the two walked to the waiting cab. “Really Holmes, simply because you've had nothing to occupy your time doesn't mean you have to try and impress me with fanciful tales. A man can't be expected to believe _everything_ .


End file.
